I Ain't Useless
by ConfuzzledAtLife
Summary: Everyone knows Soda is useless, what with the fact that he never scored well in school. Everyone knows Soda isn't well and never shows up for rumbles because of it. But nobody knows that Soda is about to blow all their opinions about him to pieces...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: An idea I had while suffering from the same sickness.

**Warnings**: This will get AU, but not normal AU, if you know what I mean. I'll eventually altar the universe we live in and do plot stuff not conceivable in today's world, though I PROMISE it is not very far fetched at all (ie Pony will not be summoning demons and Darry will not have the power to turn blue). Still give this a shot; it is perfectly believable once you get up to there. The only big AU warning is that Soda's got asthma.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing.

X X X X

"C'mon, get up, lazybones!" Darry called. "Both of you! Breakfast is ready, let's go, let's go!"

Darry heard Pony groan loudly and could just imagine him rolling over to put his head under the pillow and try for some more sleep. He heard nothing at all out of Soda. That was nothing new. At their house, Pony was always the first one awake but was the last to get out of bed. Soda had trouble sleeping due to the asthma; if he slept lying down he'd end up with incredibly pained breathing while if he slept propped up on several pillows a painful back was what he suffered through. A painful back was always better than lack of breath, however, and sitting up was how Sodapop forced himself to sleep every night.

Darry put each of the plates on their subsequent places at the table and went to wake his brothers.

He leaned against the doorframe and watched the two of them. There was no doubt Pony was awake; he could see the tension in his arm as he held the pillow over his head, trying to block out sound and light. Soda was absolutely dead to the world. "Pony," Darry called. The pillow jammed itself harder onto Pony's head. "Pony, get up, you're going to be late for school."

Pony groaned and discarded the pillow, sitting up and rubbing eyes that were adorned by dark rings underneath. "Can't I skip school today, Darry?" Pony said in a voice Darry couldn't help but describe as whiny. "Soda had a real bad night; I couldn't get any sleep."

"You shoulda got me," said Darry, sitting on Soda's side of the bed. "But you can't skip school. What kind of guardian would I be if I let you skip every time a brother or a friend wasn't feeling too hot?"

Pony whined slightly but stood up and went to get breakfast. Darry started to shake Soda awake. Years of lack of sleep caused by pain or coughing – not to mention less oxygen intake than most people – had made Soda into someone who could sleep through absolutely anything. "Soda," he called softly. "Time to get up, little buddy."

Soda groaned softly and coughed. "Heard you had a bad night," Darry murmured, rubbing his arm soothingly. "You up for going to work today?"

Inwardly, Darry had a constant battle going on in his head, and it came to the forefront at times like this. He knew they desperately needed Soda's paycheck, particularly with the expensive medicines they had to buy, but he wished he could just let Soda quit. He wasn't well enough to work; there was no doubt in his mind about that, but any days off cost them dearly.

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Dare," Soda said. Darry was so proud of him. Before their parents had died, Soda had skipped school frequently not just for boredom, but also for his health. As soon as they died, he, like Darry, had stepped up to try and get Pony through college.

"Kay. Breakfast is ready. Get up before it gets cold." Darry exited the bedroom, leaving Soda to concentrate on willing his body to leave the peaceful blackness of slumber and rejoin the waking world. He rubbed his chest, wincing slightly as his breaths caused his lungs to sting. He had always had worse problems than most in regards to his chest pain, but in return, severe blocking of the airways was less common than for the majority for Sodapop.

He stood up slowly to prevent sudden severe pain or coughing, something he had learned to do after years of experience. It was as though life were in slow motion for him; and while he was used to it, it hurt to see everyone around him so active and joyful when he, himself, could not be.

Breakfast was fairly quiet with two of three Curtis brothers still struggling with the effects of sleep. Darry tried valiantly to keep up his own one-sided conversation, though the responses he got were, at best, single word answers. Looking at the two of them, he decided that they seemed to have had far less sleep than normal. "Okay, why did you get to bed so late last night? Soda, you knew Pony had school."

Soda looked up, almost confused for a moment before realizing what Darry meant. "We got to bed in good time, Darry," he said. "You think I'd let Pony get to sleep too late when he has a pop quiz first period? Nah, he just had a nightmare."

Darry's eyes turned quickly to his youngest brother. "You did?"

Pony looked downwards, seemingly slightly embarrassed. "It's nothing," he said. "It wasn't as bad as usual. And then Soda kept me awake coughing all night!"

"Don't try to pin this on Soda," Darry said. "And how the hell did you know you have a pop quiz today?"

"Two-Bit told me," said Soda, "and I told Pony. Two-Bit knows everything that happens."

"I know," said Darry exasperatedly. "But why the hell did you tell Pony? It's supposed to be a _pop quiz_! Not to mention the fact that Two-Bit probably got the information through theft."

"Yeah," said Soda. "There's a drawer in the office where all the teachers write down the dates for a pop quiz. Apparently you have to have a certain amount per class per term."

Darry was shaking his head, staring at Soda incredulously. "That doesn't mean you can go telling him!" he cried. "Ain't you got no morals, Soda?"

That last part stung slightly. "Darry, it's just a pop quiz; it's not like they count towards anything. And I didn't do the actual stealing; I just told him!"

Darry stared at Sodapop for a moment before turning to Pony. "How long have you know about this?"

Pony seemed slightly frightened. "About a week, I guess…"

"Well, that's a week of study time you had. I want no less than an A. And you," he turned back to Soda, "if I find out you've been helping him cheat again… well let's just say I won't be impressed. Now come on; we're going to be late for work."

Darry stood up and went to put his dishes in the sink. Pony and Soda stared at each other incredulously behind his back. Pony stood up abruptly, passing his oldest brother to put his dishes in the sink. "Don't you accuse him of cheating," he said bitterly, walking off to gather his things for school.

People accusing Soda of cheating rankled Pony even more than people saying he was dumb. It had been right before he dropped out, right after their parents had died, that Soda brought home an all correct pop quiz marked with a spiky red "F". Darry had phoned the teacher in question, wishing to ask why Soda had scored so low when every answer was clearly marked with a tick. The teacher had told Darry that it was clear Soda had cheated, since he clearly did not have the brains to get an all correct test that he hadn't even known was coming. He had demanded Darry come and see him about Soda's "desperation" and "lack of moral grounds". Darry had almost agreed with the accusations, until he asked what the test was about. It was a test for health class, on the effects and treatment of asthma.

Soda never went back to school, and Darry never saw the teacher. Pony still remembered hearing Soda cry that night when he thought he was asleep. It didn't matter what his family said; that they knew he deserved an A and the teacher was off his rocker. It didn't matter what they said because Soda already knew he knew his stuff. He lived it. He had lived it for years. All that had mattered to him at that point was a grade he knew he would never obtain in any other test. That hundred per cent mark…

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor Soda...

Reviews are always apprieciated... hint hint...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thanks so much for the lovely reviews! They made my day!

"Hey, Soda," said Two-Bit as he sauntered into the bookstore.

Soda's head jerked up from where it had been resting against the wall behind him. "Hey, Two-Bit," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Ain't you supposed to be at school?"

"Pfft," Two-Bit muttered. "All I had was gym. Ain't you supposed to be working?"

Soda gave him a wry smile. "I _am _working."

"You were sleeping."

Soda rolled his eyes. "I was not _sleeping_. I was resting my eyes." Two-Bit scoffed and went to peruse the magazines. Soda liked his job. Not too many people came into a bookstore, so there was a lot of just sitting behind the counter doing what he wanted. Sure, it got quite boring, and there was no real career in it, but it paid surprisingly well for a store that, by all rights, should be going out of business. Soda tended to spend his days straightening stock shelves or drawing behind the counter. He wasn't one for reading, but Pony enjoyed the opportunities of dozens of free books at his disposal, and Soda simply used his little brother's recommendations to customers.

"You'll never guess what I saw Steve doing just now at the DX," Two-Bit said in a voice that was casual but held a promise of a great secret to come.

"Oh, and what's that?" Soda asked, sitting up properly in the chair he had dragged behind the counter. He would have loved to have Steve's job. He loved cars and knew them simply from Steve's stories and documentaries on the television, but he knew he wouldn't have been able to put up with the fumes. It was hard enough just going there when their own car needed a fill-up.

"So, there I was," Two-Bit started, "minding my own business, when I think to myself, 'Hey! How about going to see Steve?' So I walk up over to the DX, and I walk in, and I don't see anybody there."

"Is that so?" muttered Soda, idly playing along with whatever game Two-Bit was making.

"Yes, it is so. But then I hear noises – two of them, coming from different directions. One I see is Steve's supervisor having a bit of a swear as he works out some numbers in the back room. The other is Steve and some blonde, making an absolute racket as they rip each others' faces off behind the counter while Steve is supposed to be working."

_Wouldn't be the first time_, Soda thought to himself. "He's still not back with Evie, then?"

Two-Bit was stopped from answering when the door to the shop opened and four Socs entered. They paid the two greasers no attention as they went over to the classic literature section.

Two-Bit leaned over the counter to Soda. "I heard about them," he muttered. "They're the ones who destroyed five separate copies of _To Kill A Mockingbird_. Did it painfully obviously though; they got busted and the school's making them buy new copies. Never thought they'd actually give in…"

"Oi, Grease!" said one particularly sharp-eared Soc. "What were you saying about us, huh?"

His cronies behind him stopped their perusal of the shelves to turn and glare at the greasers, puffing out their chests in a cheap attempt to appear dominant.

"I was just saying that you're all a bunch of kiss asses, my good man," said Two-Bit cockily, leaning against the counter and smiling, a smile that was both placating and sarcastic at the same time.

"No, you weren't," said the Soc. "I heard you. Don't think all that grease will smooth your lying over. I know it was you who dented my car. You'd better watch it."

"I ain't lying," said Two-Bit. "I'm paraphrasing."

"You're what now?" The Soc's tone was menacing, but it was still painfully obvious that underneath the exterior of false toughness, he had no idea what that word meant.

Soda scoffed. "And you think you're getting college applications to be accepted…" he said. Soda knew he was dumb, but even he knew what paraphrasing meant. It came from having two bookworm brothers.

Another Soc, one that looked so oily that if he was taken out of the expensive jacket he might have passed as a greaser, came forward to sand next to his friend. "Are you insulting our intellects? _You_? You're the one that couldn't pass a test even when you had a lifetime's study."

Soda gripped the edges of the chair he was sitting on and his eyes hardened almost imperceptibly. He knew exactly what they were talking about. He felt Two-Bit give him a warning glance. They were outnumbered, but even if the numbers were fair, both greasers knew Soda couldn't hold out long in a fight. His lungs couldn't handle it.

"You're outta your territory, Soc," Two-Bit spat the word like the slur it was meant to be. "You better clear off quick."

There was a moment's tense silence. Though all in the small shop knew that if it came to a fight, the Socs would win; all knew that in this shop, it was Soda who held the cards. Nobody was going to risk a criminal charge. Slowly, keeping the corners of their eyes trained on the greasers, the Socs collected the books they had come for and paid. Soda counted the money with extra care, not putting it past the rich folk to underpay simply for the sake of scorning their enemy. There was the correct amount.

"Now you watch your backs," said the Soc who had started the confrontation. They left slowly, none forgetting to give Soda and Two-Bit withering looks as they passed.

Soda let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding, coughing slightly and wincing almost imperceptibly. "Thought they were going to deck us," he muttered.

"They might still," said Two-Bit, shrugging uncaringly as he grabbed a bar of chocolate sitting on the merchandise stand, tearing it open.

"You gotta pay for that," said Soda. "If Mr Brumley finds out we're missing stock…" He left the thought unfinished.

"He won't notice," said Two-Bit. "Old geezer's never in here, and even if he were, he's too senile to think about counting stock."

"He's eighty, Two-Bit," sighed Soda. "He needs the money. You seen where he lives?"

"Man, it ain't any worse than my place!" said Two-Bit. "C'mon. Have some chocolate."

Soda smiled slightly as he took the piece offered to him, his face still slightly down.

"Why so grumpy?" asked Two-Bit.

"Nothing."

"Yeah, it is. It's what them Socs said, isn't it?" He sighed and put the remainder of the chocolate bar on the counter, pushing it towards Soda. "You know you didn't fail that test, mate. It's them what's out of line. You're smart."

"It's one thing telling me a compliment, it's another thing lying to me." Soda leaned back against the wall. "I don't care. I know I ain't smart, just like you know you ain't a hit with the ladies."

Two-Bit wore a mock expression of hurt and clutched at his heart. "You did not!" he said. "Anyway, I better go. Lunch break's almost over. Don't want to miss English."

"And why on earth is that?"

Two-Bit stared at him as though he had grown a second head. "Sleeping opportunity! Listening to speeches about Shakepeare."

Soda smiled. Sleeping. The one part of school he didn't mind at all, though he would still rather do something else. "See you later."

**A/N**: Not much action there, I know, but it is coming! Promise!

PS: Guess who got their license? La dee da dee da… happy dance… guess who can't drive anyway because she's on medication? La dee da dee da… not so happy dance… What was even the point? Oh well, am off it in a couple of weeks, so shall drive then.

Please drop by and review! It'd make my day!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Still cannot believe I actually passed my driving test…

Okay, it is about four in the morning (hi 5 insomniacs!) and the last chapter I posted was right before bed, so I don't actually know if I got any reviews, but if I did, thank you very much! I shall go and reply now, promise! Enjoy the chapter, bit more action in this one.

X X X X

Soda sighed. Today had been an exceptionally slow day even for a small bookstore in the poorer parts of Tulsa. Besides the Socs, the only customers that came in after lunch were a pair of elderly ladies looking for books on gardening and, later, a refined looking middle aged man who looked oddly out of place in amongst the shabby shelves.

Soda was bored.  
When the time finally came around for him to shut the small shop and make his way home, he felt an odd sense of relief wash over him. It was not rare for him to get bored in other aspects of his life, but old Mr Brumley paid quite well and feelings of boredom were therefore mostly put off during working hours as Sodapop sat back and thought of the money.

He wandered slowly down the streets, wrapped up in a warm jacket to stave off the chill of the impending night. Oftentimes Darry would give him a ride home, but tonight was one of the twice a week nights he worked late at his second job. Soda knew Darry didn't want him walking about alone in the cold; it was not at all good for his lungs, but the situation was unavoidable.

As if attempting to prove his thoughts, he jerked slightly as his lungs protested the cold, coughing slightly before pain began to set in. This happened often, but it didn't get any easier to deal with. Hoping to prevent a more serious attack while walking alone, he tried to hold his breath for a few moments, wincing as his body tried to make him inhale.

In hindsight, it was probably only because of the lack of his breathing that he heard the steps behind him. They could not have been simply a group of friends on their way home from the nightly double; for one ting, it was much too early, and for another, it was almost painfully obvious that they were trying to avoid being heard. Soda stopped somewhat experimentally, and, predictably but almost to his dismay, the footsteps stopped with him.

He started walking again, not so fast as to arouse suspicion but faster than before. He was only a couple of streets away from home now. He felt his heart rate increase slightly and took a short breath. The pain was still there.

_Just what I need_, he thought to himself, _an asthma attack whilst some creeps are trying to follow me_…

He abandoned the idea of trying to look as though he did not know he was being followed and quickened his pace. He needed to get home before his body gave up on him. He took as many breaths as possible, but could not fit in enough air to stop his head spinning slightly. _Okay Soda_, he thought. _No big deal. This has happened before…_

But it was a big deal. Whoever was following him evidently now knew he knew, and he felt slight panic set in as the secrecy was abandoned and those behind him began running. He did the same. If he could just get around the bend, maybe someone at his house would notice. He knew there were at least four behind him. It was not fair. Why did they have to get him now?

His body overtook his brain as he took a huge gasp for air. He knew it was a mistake before he had even completed the breath as he involuntarily fell to the ground, grabbing at his chest as the pain blossomed almost unbearably. It was just the chance his pursuers needed.

They closed in around him, sealing off any chance for escape, even if he had been in the condition to run. In the back of his mind, the tiny part left of rational thought that was not blocked off by either adrenaline or lack of oxygen, Soda recognized the Socs from the bookstore earlier. He felt suddenly cheated. He had been jumped before, certainly, but never by people who knew of his condition. These boys did; their earlier comments in the bookstore confirmed that. Even Socs wouldn't sink that low. Or so he had thought…

He knew it was a lost fight before it had even begun, but he brought his fists up anyway and staggered to his feet. His vision was already dotting slightly. He only had until the adrenaline wore off and he knew it.

He blocked a punch from his right and managed to land one to the face of the Soc directly in front of him before turning slightly and hitting another squarely in the stomach. He felt a knock to his back and swiftly danced away from another blow intended for his side. The fast move turned out to be too much for him and he fell to the ground, now coughing desperately even as the pain grew to be simply too much.

"I wouldn't worry about your brothers, grease," snarled one Soc as he flipped Soda over onto his back and began hitting him in the stomach, making him cough even harder. "They'll probably thank us for getting rid of another mouth to feed that is too stupid to get anywhere by himself and too weak to stick up for 'em in a rumble!"

The blows suddenly changed to attacking his chest. He felt a different pain entirely to the pain he was feeling in his lungs, but this one just as severe. The double assault was what finally ended the adrenaline rush, and Soda felt himself slip into blackness. The final thing he remembered were two more boys coming running towards the fray.

_Is four against one not enough_?

X X X X

**A/N**: That was rather difficult since I have never been stalked and attacked before, so I'd love some comments on how it was. Reviews keep me posting faster! Thanks in advance!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**: I'm sorry. But I don't really care if salbutamol was made available in the States in 1970, I'm afraid I'm pushing its distribution up a couple of years. And unless you're a medical historian (and I don't even know if such a thing exists) then it shouldn't bother you too much, if at all.

X X X X

Waking was a slow process, slow and painful. He knew whatever had caused the shutting down of his lungs was gone now, as his breathing was untroubled in that regard. It was, however, troubled by another type of pain, located in a different part of his chest.

Soda groaned.

"Steve, he's waking up," muttered Pony. He moved over to where his brother was sitting in Darry's chair, surrounded by pillows and swathed in blankets.

Steve moved over, his aversion to Ponyboy's presence evaporating in light of the circumstances concerning his best friend. Soda didn't look so pale now. They had gotten to him in time. He'd be all right.

Soda's eyes opened slowly. "Man, who the hell turned the heater up?" he mumbled to himself, attempting to throw off the blankets, one which he recognized as being Steve's jacket.

"The heater ain't on, Soda," Pony said, his fear evident on his eyes.

Soda looked at him, guessing his thoughts. "I don't have a fever, Pone," he muttered. "You just decided to suffocate me!" The blankets were all discarded, but Soda remained seated. "What happened?"

Pony looked uneasily at Steve, who looked at Soda with the expression he, Soda, had come to know as the mother hen look. It was the look he was leveled with every time he had an asthma attack, and though it wasn't anywhere near the proud look everybody wanted to see, and Soda especially, he was reasonably used to it. "We heard shouting," said Steve at length. "My old man kicked me out… again… so me and Pony ran down to see if it was a greaser in trouble. Never honestly expected it to be you."

Pony returned his gaze to his brother. "They ran as soon as they saw us coming. We never got a good look at them; we were more worried about you. You weren't breathing so good… how's it now?"

Soda suddenly noticed the presence of his inhaler on the ground near his feet. So that was why he could breathe… "It's… it's weird," he said at length. "Hurts real bad, but not the normal hurt."

Steve grimaced. "You sort of… might have cracked a rib," he said, somewhat lamely.

Soda remembered the fight, remembered the horrible and sudden pain lancing through his chest. That explanation made sense.

"Did you see them, Soda?" Steve asked quietly. Though he tried to give an exterior of calm, both of the brothers in the room knew he was desperate for a chance to extract revenge.

"Steve…" Soda began warily.

"Don't just not dob them in because you're scared of what I'll do to them," Steve said passionately. "That's assault, Soda. If we hadn't come, they could've killed you!"

Soda glared at the floor. "I don't care about them," he said. "I care about you. You'll do something stupid, Steve; don't say you won't! I don't want _you _in jail."

"Why would Steve go to jail?"

Three heads turned simultaneously as Darry entered the house. He noticed that something was amiss right away, and he knew the fact that his brother was sitting tiredly on his chair with his inhaler by his feet had something – no, _everything_, to do with it. "What the hell happened?" he cried, panic for Sodapop somehow making him seem angry.

"Them Socs," growled Steve through grit teeth. "They jumped Soda on his way home."

"They WHAT?" Darry cried. "Are you –"

"I'm fine, Dare!"

"No, you ain't!"

"STOP IT! Stop it!" Pony cried as the voices rose. "He's not okay, Dare. We think he cracked a rib; he's been out of it the last twenty minutes because of an attack!"

"It was only ten minutes –" Soda tried to protest. He didn't need Darry to yell at Pony because of this. He knew he would.

"How the hell would you know?" Darry said, staring at Soda intently, warning him with a gaze to keep silent. "Pony. What happened?"

Pony told Darry of how they had heard yelling and gone to investigate; of how their own cried had alerted Soda's attackers, who had made off into the night; of how he and Steve had brought Soda back here, praying his breathing would even out and, most of all, praying it would not shut down all together.

As Pony spoke, Darry's face grew darker and darker, his mind filling with horrible images of his little brother getting beaten up when the attackers knew he was virtually defenseless. Darry did not like to refer to either of his brothers as such, but it was an unfortunate actuality in Soda's case. If he had an attack, that attack could very well lead to his final breath.

When the tale was finished, Darry took a brief breath and looked to the ground. "Soda," he said, his voice carefully controlled calm, "go to bed. You look dead on your feet."

Soda recognized the dismissal for what it was. Evidently, so did Steve. "I'll put everything back for you." He collected the blankets taken from Soda and Pony's bed as well as the inhaler. Soda followed him towards his room, walking slowly and lethargically both because of his aching rib and because he knew what he was leaving Pony to.

Steve arranged the bed silently, knowing Soda was involved in his own thoughts. Just as his best friend lay down to try and sleep through the rest of the worst pain, Steve heard Darry start his inevitable rampage.

"They promised me, Steve," muttered Soda. "You know that? They promised me… now they're fighting because of me."

Steve looked at him sadly. He knew what had transpired that day shortly after Johnny and Dally's deaths; Soda had told him himself. He felt disappointment creep upon him; disappointment at Darry for failing to keep a promise set in good faith.

X X X X

**A/N**: Rather depressing, but also rather necessary, so I am sorry! Soda's okay, yay! But what shall happen next? Will Steve go on a murderous Soc-killing rampage (all who wish it please say I)? Will Two-Bit spill the beans about who hurt Sodapop? Oh, the questions!

Okay, I'm sorry for that. But seriously, reviews keep me posting! Please tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**: Am in exactly the same position as yesterday, when I didn't know whether I had gotten any reviews or not (woo! Bidaily updates… is that a word?) but if I did, thank you very much for the support and I shall go and respond right now!

X X X X

"That wasn't good, Ponyboy," Darry said as soon as Steve and Sodapop had left the room. "That was too close. What if his inhaler never worked? Did you think about that?"

"It did work, Darry," said Pony, feeling rather miserable after the night's events. "He's fine."

Darry was not, at that moment, looking at Pony. He was looking towards the ground in the hope that Pony would not see the sheer fear in his eyes. He had to be strong. "But what if it hadn't?" he said again, more quietly this time. Looking back up at his youngest brother, he continued in a harder tone of voice. "You should have done something! Every day I go to work I have to worry about the both of you. But I worry about Soda a lot more!"

Pony looked up sharply, hurt shining in his eyes. "You wouldn't care if I got jumped," he said accusingly.

"I'd trust you to be able to handle yourself!" said Darry, not realizing he was making a bad situation worse. "I also thought I could trust you to do the right thing if anything like this happens! Apparently I can't."

"Oh, what the hell did you expect me to do?" Pony yelled. "We did everything we could!"

"You could have gotten him to the hospital!" Darry said. "If he's not breathing… that's dangerous, Pony; I don't think you realize that! People _die _when they can't breathe!"  
"But he was breathing! We checked; we never stopped checking! Besides, I don't have a car, Steve didn't have a car; what d'you want us to do, carry him? He ain't that light, Darry!"

"You could have done _something_!"

"Oh, why don't you listen to what's coming out of your mouth?" Pony cried, disgust at what Darry was saying creeping into his voice. "All you say is that we could have done something. We did _everything_! What more could we have done? I'm sorry, Darry, but I CAN'T CURE ASTHMA!" Pony shouted the final part and turned, making his way quickly towards his room. He was sick of Darry. Sick of the way he always wanted more out of him, sick of the way he never gave any inclination of caring about what he was feeling. All he cared about was Soda.

Pony threw open the door to his bedroom, ignoring Steve who made his way out behind him now that the row was over. Pony slammed the door and threw himself onto the bed, not bothering to change into his pajamas.

Beside him, he heard Soda roll over slowly and put his arm across Pony's back, saying nothing, simply being there. That was why Pony loved Soda so much. He was always _there_. Nothing mattered to him; when you wake up the next morning, Soda will forgive you for whatever you've done.

He didn't know about the feelings of betrayal Soda was working on banishing right at this moment for the sake of his family.

X X X X

"Mornin' all," Soda said sleepily as he walked out to the kitchen for breakfast the next day. Darry and Pony were already eating, though in a stony silence. Sodapop knew each one of them had problems being the one to forgive the other. They were too damn stubborn.

He was walking slightly hunched over, his injuries from yesterday taking their toll on his body. Darry noticed this immediately. "What are you doing up?" he asked, exasperation creeping into his voice.

Soda stared at him as he took his plate. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Darry's eyes narrowed, but not in anger. Sodapop still sounded slightly breathless. He appeared to be trying to ignore it. "You're not going to work today, Soda."

"Why not?"

"Why d'you think?" Darry said. "You're injured and sick. Don't try and tell me you can breathe fine."

Soda scowled. He was still a little hurt by the argument between Pony and Darry the night before. They had promised not to fight anymore; and in the back of his mind, Soda couldn't help agreeing with what Pony had said. Darry seemed to expect Pony to invent a cure for asthma. He knew Darry didn't intend for that, but that was exactly how it came across.

And deep down, he could not help but silently agree with Darry that he was not well enough to work today. He was breathing with extreme difficulty from both the familiar pains from his asthma and the cracked rib. Steve had wrapped it last night, but that certainly didn't mean it didn't still _hurt_. Had his parents still been alive, he would undoubtedly be stuck in bed for the day. But he also knew that they needed the money. "I can work, Dare," he said quietly. Even speaking was seriously taxing.

"No, you can't. I'll call Mr Brumley for you; you finish off your breakfast and get straight back to bed. Take your inhaler, too."

Soda began to chew slowly on the slice of chocolate cake. He had already taken his inhaler. Stupid thing wasn't working particularly well.

"I'll drop you off today, Pony," said Darry.

Pony said nothing.

X X X X

"Hey, looks like Eeyore decided to visit the school!" said Two-Bit, laughing at the scowl Pony had been wearing for almost the entire day. It was lunchtime now, the bell having just rung, and the two of them were making their way over towards Two-Bit's car.

"Quit it, Two-Bit; I ain't in the mood," said Pony, rather bitterly.

"Oh, did you only get a B on your test?" Two-Bit teased good naturedly. "Why don't we go see Soda? Apparently they're getting a new lot of books in today, and personally I want to see if those Socs there yesterday try anything."

"Soda's not there today," said Pony. He stopped walking as what Two-Bit said suddenly clicked in his mind. "_Socs _were there yesterday?"

"Yeah," said Two-Bit. "Those ones who destroyed all the school's books. They had to buy the new copies, and they got 'em from Soda."

"Did they say anything?" Pony asked.

"Yeah," shrugged Two-Bit. "They were actually real nasty; told me to watch my back." He began walking again – well, more _sauntering_, in Pony's mind. Two-Bit came across as slightly full of himself, particularly when talking about Socs. "So how come Soda's not there today?"

Pony looked darkly towards the section of the parking lot that Socs tended to park their cars. Even in car parks, there were huge social equity divisions. "I think I know now," he said quietly.

X X X X

**A/N**: That was honestly a very difficult chapter to write, what with the fight between Darry and Pony and Soda's reaction to it, so reviews would be very appreciated (though of course, reviews are ALWAYS appreciated).


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning for this chapter**: I don't know anything about chemistry. I'm hoping there are no experts reading this, because I failed year 9 chem. Please just ignore that and read for the story, if possible! It doesn't look too bad unless you know what you are talking about! Oh, and also please remember, this chem stuff DOES have a point in the plot (and I swear not a boring point).

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!

X X X X

Pony did not volunteer the information about the Socs immediately. He was in deep thought, his mind attempting to conjure up the images of what could have gone on the previous day. Instead, he interrogated Two-Bit. "Why'd they threaten you? What did you do?"

"I saw some real tuff car a couple of weeks ago," said Two-Bit, going over to his car and unlocking it. He sat in the driver's seat and Pony got in on the other side, not taking his eyes off his friend as he told his story. "It was just sitting there, down some alleyway; I've got no idea why. But it was in our territory, and it couldn't be more obvious it was a Soc car. So since there was no one there to guard it, I just gave them a little piece of my mind. Took a reasonably long bit of wood to the panels." He chuckled to himself. "Never thought I'd see a Soc so stupid as to leave his tuff car in a place where Two-Bit Mathews could get it!"

Pony wasn't laughing. He turned to look out through the windscreen, watching the trees almost shiver in the cool air. He didn't understand what Two-Bit's story had to do with his brother. "Did they make good on their threat?" He had a sneaking suspicion creeping up on him, and it scared him to no end.

"Nah, they're all a bunch of pansies," said Two-Bit off-handedly, speeding up suddenly to make it through a yellow light. "They come into the Black Cat yesterday; I'd skipped gym and it looked like they did too. They're acting all tough and mean, but man, me and Soda saw right through. They wouldn't try anything with us unless they had forty mates behind them; you know Socs."

Ponyboy's face grew, if possible, even darker.

"Hey, what's up with you?" Two-Bit asked. Pony sure was in a bad mood today…

"They _did _try something," Pony said, anger creeping into his voice. "But you're right; they're too cowardly to try anything with you. They jumped Soda yesterday."

Two-Bit's cocky smile vanished instantly. "They _what_?"

The rivalry between the Socs and the greasers was brutal and violent, but there was still an unspoken moral code that existed, buried deep below the thick surface of hatred. That moral code had only been broken once before: the night Johnny had killed Bob Sheldon. The Socs saw it that way, at least. The greasers knew Bob and his friends had been drunk, and Johnny's actions only in self-defense. But attacking Soda was something completely different. Soda had done nothing to them. That on top of the fact that it had been four against one when the four knew perfectly well about Soda's health problems; they had made it clear yesterday in the shop, made it an act of pure cowardice.

Two-Bit gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were turning white. "He's okay, right?" he asked softly, joking manner vanished.

"He cracked a rib and had a real bad attack," said Pony. "Me and Steve found him. They ran the second they heard us coming."

Two-Bit swore softly. "Man, I swear, the second I set eyes on those Socs –"

"Don't," Ponyboy interrupted. "You'll make it worse."

"Make it _worse_?" Two-Bit cried. "If we let them think they can get away with it… well, Soda might not be so lucky next time! They're probably just using him as leverage!"

"Yeah, well, we'll just have to let them for a time!" Pony cried. "Let me talk to someone; maybe I can sort it out! Soda ain't going to work for a while; Darry'll make sure of that. He'll be fine for a few days at least; maybe we can prevent anything worse from happening to either side."

"And who the hell are you planning on talking to?" Two-Bit said. "No offence or anything, Pony, but you ain't exactly the most popular guy with the Socs. Half of 'em think you killed Bob."

Pony already knew his answer. "I'll talk to Randy."

X X X X

Soda's sigh of boredom swiftly turned into a cough that turned into more. He was feeling absolutely lousy. He was sitting up on the couch, watching some stupid cooking show intended for housewives, remote control in one hand, inhaler in the other, in a constant battle with his body to force the intake of air. He took another couple of puffs from the inhaler, jerking slightly as he suppressed the coughs long enough for the medicine to – _hopefully _– start working. He had had minimal luck with that the whole day.

He stood slowly, trying to prevent another coughing fit, and walked into the kitchen. Darry had left him some soup on the stove; all he had to do was warm it up. He turned the stove on and sat down at the table, an open exercise book catching his eye. Poor Pony. Seemed he had forgotten his chemistry homework.

Flipping the book back to the beginning, he read it over as he waited for the soup to heat, wondering to himself whether or not he had ever actually learned anything in class. Some of the earlier stuff he recognized vaguely, but the new stuff was just that – new.

He reached the page that had been open on the table and smiled slightly. Pony hadn't forgotten his homework. He just hadn't _done _it. _Probably my fault_, Soda thought to himself, and smiled wryly. He decided not to show it to Darry; he doubted his older brother would see saving Soda as an adequate excuse. He would probably just say he should have done it the moment he got home. Pony had a nasty habit of leaving things until the last minute.

Soda stood slowly and collected the soup, bringing it back over to the table. God, he hurt. He would probably take Darry up on his offer to go to the doctor's when he got home.

He went back to reading the homework of the night before. _Salbutamol is a newly discovered drug designed for the treatment of which disease? Why does it have no lasting effects? _

Soda smiled and picked up a pen.

X X X X

**A/N**: That had a point, I SWEAR! A very important point! Yes, this does actually have a thought out plot!!

Please take the time to tell me what you think, bearing in mind that I know nothing about chemistry!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: Thank you so much to all reviewers! They keep this fic what is probably one of the most frequently updated on FFN! (Not meaning to brag. I'm proud of myself!)

Italics denote flashbacks.

X X X X

"Hey," called Darry as he walked into the house. He put the bags of groceries on the kitchen table and went to the living room, where Pony, Two-Bit and Steve were sitting around in front of the television. The general mood seemed to be quite morose. "Where's Soda?" Darry asked. If he had taken some girl out while he was sick…

"Sleeping," said Steve. "He hasn't woken all afternoon."

"Pony," said Darry softly, sitting in his favourite chair in the corner. "How was your day?"

His attitude towards his youngest brother had changed while he was at work, and now he realized his mistakes, he was grateful to the one who had, unintentionally, opened his eyes. It had been right at the beginning of his lunch break…

X X X X

"_D'you mind if I knock off an hour early this afternoon?" Darry asked his boss. "I'll make it up tomorrow, and we're on schedule anyway…" He left the sentence hanging._

"_Well, what do you have planned?" Mr Keate said. He was generally a good boss, but not the easiest to bend to your will. Most of the time Darry almost admired that about him; he was a strong person. Now it was more of an irritant._

"_I have to take my brother to the doctor's. They close at five, and he's actually really sick." Sodapop certainly wouldn't approve of that description of him. Well, screw what he thought. Darry knew it was the truth. He scowled. Soda shouldn't _have _to go to the doctor's. If Pony had gotten there just a tiny bit sooner, he'd be all right. That kid never used his head._

"_Your brother… that's the one that's got really bad asthma, isn't it?" Mr Keate looked somewhat thoughtful. "You look angry about it."_

_Darry looked up from where his gaze had slipped to glaring at the floor. "Well, he shouldn't be sick," he said._

_His boss clearly assumed Darry was angry at Soda rather than Pony, but it had the same effect. "You know my little girl's got asthma?" he said. "Not as bad as your brother, but she suffers occasionally. It's not his fault, Darrel. Nobody can cure it or prevent it. We just have to deal with it. There are times when it's bad, and times when it's better. I strongly suggest you remember that if you don't want your relationship to suffer."_

_Darry swallowed almost inaudibly._

"_Sure, take off at four," Mr Keate said in answer to his request, turning back to his papers. "I hope your brother gets better."_

X X X X

"It was fine," said Pony, and Darry was relieved to hear no signs of strain in his tone. Nothing indicated that Pony even recalled the fight of the previous night, and Darry felt even guiltier because of it. If it were not for the words of his boss, he would probably still be stewing. "I got an A+ on that pop quiz."

Darry smiled, getting up off his chair. "Good for you," he said sincerely.

"But I need you to sign a note."

Darry turned back towards Pony. "What for?"

"I… sorta forgot my chemistry homework."

Darry felt the urge to yell at his younger brother, but with a monumental effort, he suppressed it. "I suppose I can understand why you would forget." He knew that, on top of finding Soda beaten and unconscious, Pony had not been able to sleep too well through Soda's night time coughing. Even Darry, who slept in a completely separate room, had woken a couple of times during the night. "Sure, I'll write that note. Just leave it on the table. I'm going to take Soda to the doctor's."

Pony seemed frozen in shock for a moment before a smile broke out on his face, and Darry felt a small tingle of regret in the fact that Pony had to be _surprised _that he was being understanding. He wished his parents were still alive; they _always _knew to do the right thing.

The sound of Soda starting up another coughing fit came through the closed door, and Darry silently swore to himself. He had probably been like this on and off throughout the entire day.

Darry opened the door and moved over to Soda's side. He could see why he was having such difficulty breathing; at some point during his sleep he had managed to slide off the pile of pillows and was now lying flat, something they had learned long ago was not at all beneficial. Darry shook him, softly at first, then when that garnered no response, more roughly. Soda awoke with a start, and the coughing seemed to double. Between the coughs, Darry could hear the telltale signs of wheezing.

Soda had baffled doctors for the first six years of his life. They all knew he had trouble breathing – though it had worsened during his years of puberty – but nobody could tell why. He complained about pain rather than wheezing, and though he coughed more than the average person, he did not cough as much as the average asthmatic. With no clue as to how to treat the attacks, and no clue as to why they were even happening, Soda had ended up spending a reasonable amount of time in hospital for almost constant testing as well as for oxygen in the times his breathing became too bad. It was only after a chest X-ray after he suffered a nasty bout of flu that they discovered that he did, in fact, suffer from something usually easily diagnosed and reasonably common. Now, wheezing was regarded by both Soda's doctors and his family as extremely dangerous; it meant the asthma had progressed beyond their control.

Darry looked around hastily and spotted the inhaler atop Soda's bedside table. He pulled his little brother up so he was half sitting, leaning against the three pillows on his side of the bed that were placed there for that very purpose and held the inhaler to his mouth.

"Breathe, Soda," he instructed quietly, stroking the blonde hair with his free hand. Inside, he was panicking, but he knew from experience that panic was the worst thing he could possibly do in this situation. Soda needed to calm down. "You're all right… come on, little buddy, you're all right…" He did not know exactly what he was saying, but whether it was the words, the medicine, or a combination of the two, Soda began to calm, his breathing easing up slowly but surely. Darry put the inhaler back on the bedside table.

"I'm taking you in to the doctor's," he said quietly. "You want me to get your clothes and stuff? We should go soon or they'll be closed…" He trailed off as Soda shook his head. "What is it, little buddy?"

"They'll – it's my rib," panted Soda, still holding his chest.

"That's part of the reason I want to take you in, silly," chided Darry softly. "We can get the doctor to have a look at that too, maybe get you something for the pain…"

Soda continued to shake his head. "What if – what if they think" – he coughed – "that you're abusing me?"

Darry frowned slightly. He hadn't thought of that. He knew the doctor would report anything he perceived to be abuse to social services, and he knew he was already under suspicion simply because he was Soda and Pony's brother, not a parent. And after Windrixville, he wasn't sure how much he could convince them it hadn't at all been him who had injured Sodapop. He couldn't very well tell them the truth: that Soda had been jumped on his way home from work. For one thing, that would prove him an inadequate guardian both for allowing Soda to work and for allowing Soda and Pony both to live in a neighbourhood riddled with crime.

He bit his lip. This was a bit of a dilemma…

X X X X

**A/N**: Am swiftly discovering I have no life. Go to school, come home, go to work, come home, write and post, sleep, write and post, go to school…

Please take the time to review and tell me what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed! I say that every chapter but it never loses meaning. Thank you guys so much!

X X X X

"Sodapop Curtis?" called the young female receptionist.

Darry almost let out a breath of relief. They had been sitting here for the past forty minutes, and it was now very close to closing time for the small medical practice. He had tried to get Soda in earlier because of his troubled breathing, but the lady had simply said that as long as he was managing to take in air, he could wait in line.

Darry had insisted on taking Soda in regardless of the possible consequences. He _hadn't _hit Soda, after all. He had no marks on his knuckles and at any rate, Dr Jackson had seen them before and would hopefully believe him. If he was told that Soda had to quit, he would argue that since Soda was underage and could receive no sort of allowance from the government for this sort of thing, he needed to work.

"C'mon, little buddy," he muttered. Soda was half dozing on his shoulder. He never could simply sit still without either his mind wandering or going to sleep.

Soda followed Darry into the doctor's room and sat on the thin bed that served as an examination table. He had seen Dr Jackson on a few occasions. He was a middle aged man with dark hair that was slowly making the transition to grey and dark skin and eyes to match. He was also short – with both standing side by side, he barely passed Soda's shoulder. He had a generally friendly nature and had never treated Soda like a kid, even back when he _was _a kid. He gave whatever news he had to give directly to his patient, not the guardian as many doctors were wont to do.

"Hello, Soda," he said. "How are you today?"

He always asked that, even though it was obvious Soda was not well – he wouldn't be here otherwise. It was simply a politeness thing, though it was sometimes tricky to answer without either lying or whining.

Darry answered for him, sparing Soda the breath needed to make a reply himself. "His asthma's gotten pretty out of control," he explained quietly. "But that's not all; he –" Darry stopped momentarily as his eyes made contact with Soda's. Maybe he was being paranoid. Maybe Dr Jackson wouldn't make any assumption at all. On the other hand… No. He would rather Sodapop's asthma under control and him in a foster home than Sodapop dead. He pushed the morbid thoughts out of his mind. "He got a bit roughed up by some of the guys," Darry said. "I think he cracked a rib."

"Ah," said Dr Jackson. He said nothing on whether or not he believed Darry, and his tone certainly gave no indication.

Soda coughed.

"Okay, can you take off your shirt for me, Soda? Let's have a look…" Soda obeyed, removing the bandages Steve had wrapped around him and lying down when instructed. He sat back up almost the moment his head touched the pillow, unwittingly throwing off the doctor's hands as another coughing fit took hold.

The doctor swiftly took an inhaler from one of the many boxes nailed to the wall. Soda took a couple of puffs before sitting back, leaning against the wall, his hand resting on the part of his chest most mottled with bruises.

"Hm, forgot about that…" Dr Jackson muttered to himself. He faced Soda again. "We'll try with you sitting up, then. Just try not to move, all right?"

Soda nodded and winced as Dr Jackson's hands moved to his rib. He quickly found the place that pained his patient the most. Soda jerked and hissed slightly before holding his breath.

"Hm," said the doctor again. "Your brother was right, Soda; it is a cracked rib. I suggest you continue doing what you are doing; that is, resting, keeping it wrapped, and I'll write you a prescription for pain medication. As for your breathing…" He took his stethoscope and placed the cold metal circle against Soda's chest. "Can you breathe in for me… and hold it… okay, breathe out… hold it."

He finished and Soda's release of air turned into a wheezy cough. He allowed Soda to pull his shirt back over his head after wrapping a new, clean bandage over his injury and went to writing something down at his desk.

Darry's eyes met Soda's and they briefly exchanged a look of shared relief. The doctor had said nothing about any kind of possible abuse. Their fears, it seemed, had been for nothing.

"So how's school going?" the doctor said quietly as he continued to write out prescriptions.

"I dropped out," said Soda, his tone bearing no hints of either shame or any other type of emotion. He accepted his dropout statement as simply a fact of life.

Dr Jackson's eyebrows rose slightly. "So what are you doing, then?"

This time, Soda grimaced slightly, though the doctor, whose head remained buried in his work, did not see. "I work," he said, a little guiltily. He was still trying to keep his words to a minimum.

"Just down at a bookstore," Darry added. "He doesn't do anything strenuous."

"I hope you realize that is quite foolish," said the doctor, finishing the prescriptions and giving Soda the forms to sign. "You are severely asthmatic, and especially given the fact that yours exhibits itself in a way that is not normal, you ought to be careful."

Darry swallowed his irritation. Of course this _doctor _– who would be taking quite a chunk out of their savings for the week – would say that. He probably had no idea what it was like to live in a household that required three incomes to try and stay afloat. Darry knew perfectly well Soda shouldn't be working, and he knew he shouldn't have to have two jobs.

"Well, at the very least, take as much time off as you need," said Dr Jackson, opening the door for the pair of them.

Soda followed Darry to the reception desk where the bill was waiting. He watched his older brother take one look at the bill, and saw the moment of inner turmoil in Darry's eyes before he carefully schooled his gaze and wrote out a check. Soda glanced down at the two prescriptions he held. The asthma pills he had been on before, and while they were really not too much money, they weren't free. The pain pills he had never had before, and he hoped they wouldn't cost too much either. He felt absolutely lousy about himself. Pony certainly didn't cost as much as he did. No, you simply had to feed, clothe and house Ponyboy to keep him happy and healthy. Not Sodapop. Looking back at his childhood, he was probably the reason why their parents had left them so little money. And people said he shouldn't be working! Well, if he couldn't work, they would have no money at all for doctors. Where was the logic in that?

Soda barely ever felt anger. It simply wasn't in his vocabulary. But at that moment, as he sat in their car to go to the pharmacy and pick up the medication Darry probably wouldn't need to pay for if it weren't for them, he felt a burning anger for Socs. Why did they have to beat him up? Was this about whatever Two-Bit had done that they had mentioned in the store? Or – Soda swallowed nervously as the implications of the realization hit him – was this still about the death of Bob Sheldon?

If it was, if they were using him as a way to get revenge on the one they blamed, and if the greasers realized this and retaliated (as Soda was sure they would do), then he had a sinking feeling things were about to get very dangerous on the streets of Tulsa.

Darry seemed to notice Soda's mood. "What's up, little buddy?"

"I feel expensive," said Soda miserably.

Darry frowned. "How so?"

Soda knew he was a bawl baby, and he felt the tears start to threaten now. "Well… I cost so much! You never have to take Pony to the doctor's, and don't try telling me that visit didn't set us back some. Mr Brumley can't afford to pay me when I don't work, and I know I'm too sick to…"

Darry turned to him as he stopped for a red light. Soda wiped angrily at the couple of tears that had managed to escape, and he saw Darry smiling fondly at him. "Shoot, Soda," his older brother said. "You ain't expensive. You're valued."

Soda's face broke into a wide, if slightly teary, smile.

X X X X

**A/N**: I've had that sentence in my mind for a while now 

Please review! I always love to hear comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N**: Thank you so much for reviewing! I'd still love to hear from you lurkers, too! I've seen the hit count; I know you're there, lol!

Also special thanks to Steph36, who pointed out that there were no remote controls in the 60s. My bad... Have removed remote from this chapter!

X X X X

Pony collected the note of excuse for his late homework from the kitchen table and put it in his bag along with his chemistry homework. He had been extremely surprised, when he picked it up the previous evening, to discover that it had been completed. Sodapop's handwriting was very similar to his own, and it had baffled him for a moment before he realized what must have happened. He had thanked Soda as they lay in bed the previous night, but had not mentioned the incident to Darry.

"Bye, Soda," he called. "Darry, I'm in the car!" Today was one of those better days in which Darry drove him to school. He was glad of it; today was the day he wanted to talk to Randy. He was not so naïve as to believe that all Socs were in one huge group of friends who always got along together; that would be like assuming Tim Shepard was Darry's best mate, but there was always the off chance Randy could do something.

He arrived at school twenty minutes early and, forgoing his usual trip to the base of a tree in the front yard, Pony made his way over to Soc territory. He earned himself quite a few glares for his actions, but Pony had always lived somewhat in his own world, and he didn't even notice.

"Hey, look at the filthy grease," yelled one Soc standing near to where Randy was having his own conversation with a pretty girl Pony knew by sight only. "Go back to your hovel, grease!"

Pony ignored him and stepped over to Randy. The girl gave him a look one might give a particularly ugly caterpillar, but Randy simply nodded. "Sorry for interrupting," said Pony, "but can I talk to you for a minute?"

They walked a safe distance from the jeering Socs, who, after a moment, returned to the pursuit of their own conversations. Pony did not look straight at Randy to begin with. If he were honest with himself, he was scared. Scared that nothing could be done, that more people would be hurt. "My brother got jumped the other day," he said quietly.

Randy blinked. "Look, no offense, Pony, but your guys jump quite a few of our guys too. You can't really expect them not to retaliate."

Pony looked at him. "You know. My brother Sodapop? The one who's sick and has never so much as touched a Soc?" The words came out more bitterly than he intended. "It wasn't just that though; they snuck up on him. It was four of them, Randy. _Four_! Soon as me and my buddy came running they just scattered. I found out they jumped him for something Two-Bit Mathews did. That's low, man, that's real low and you know it. What I want to know is if this is still to do with Bob."

Randy seemed to wince slightly at the mention of his best friend's name. "I honestly don't know who jumped your brother, Pony," he said, "or if this is anything to do with Bob."

"I know who did it, though," said Pony. "Those guys who destroyed the books? You know them?"

"I know them, but they sure aren't the brightest mates a guy can have," said Randy. "I don't think they'd still be mad about Bob. They barely knew him. And what does Soda have to do with that, anyway?"

"He's my brother, ain't he?" Pony said. "You and I both know there are buddies of yours that still pin that on me. And seems they're too cowardly to take me on; they have to go for my brother! Truth is that I'm just worried this could happen again. Only reason Soda got out of it was because he was so close to home, but we might not be so lucky next time. I'd really like you to have a talk with them."

Randy's nod was stiff, but his eyes showed his understanding of the severity of the situation. Pony had known he could count on Randy for this. He was the one Soc Pony knew for a fact was desperate for a lack of bloodshed, whether it be a Soc or just a greaser.

X X X X

Soda was flicking through the TV channels again. He hated being sick; it was so boring. Now, on top of the asthma he had had yesterday, he was feeling incredibly lethargic because of the pain pills he was on. At least his rib no longer pained him too much.

There was nothing on, so he switched the box off and began simply daydreaming. He wondered what his life would have been like had he not had asthma. Better, obviously. No chest pain, coughing, and no back pain every morning from sleeping sitting up all night. And he'd be able to have an adequate amount of sleep, too! Soda smiled slightly as his eyes drifted shut.

He wouldn't have to be such a burden on Darry. He would have been able to work with Steve at the DX with cars – that would have been fun. Hell, he might even have been smart! He hated school, and probably would have skipped a fair amount anyway, but he would have attended quite a few more lessons had he not always been sick.

He thought about the homework of Pony's yesterday. Why _didn't _the medicine have a lasting effect? Were scientists even trying to come up with a solution? He knew they probably were, but with the funding – or lack thereof – for medical research, they couldn't be doing much. Stupid government.

And on top of all that, _why _did he have asthma? Was it something he did? Something his mother did while she was pregnant? He would never blame her for his condition. He just wanted to be able to prevent his own children from going through what he went through. It couldn't be something he had inherited, otherwise Darry and Pony would both be sick too. Right?

He resolved to ask Darry when he got home. Darry was smart; he'd probably know the answer.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor Soda, he's all confused and alone. Lol, why do we torture our favourite characters?

Please review! I actually wouldn't mind hearing some theories about where this is going to go. Anyone who guesses correctly gets… gets… my unfinished history homework! A wonderful prize!


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N**: Thank you so much for all the reviewers, and to everyone who keeps reading this! I say this every time but it means a lot!

X X X X

"Hey, Darry?" said Soda quietly. "Can I ask you something?"

"No, you absolutely may not," said Darry sarcastically. He was stirring the spaghetti on the stove as Soda sat at the table, for some strange reason reading Pony's chemistry notes. "Sure you can."

"What made me get sick?"

Darry blinked. "You know, I'm not sure," he said slowly. "Why?"

"I'm curious."

"Lord save us all," said Darry with a chuckle. "PONY! Dinner's ready!"

Pony came tearing inside, stinking of cigarettes. Soda gagged.

"Pony, how many times do I have to tell you not to come in smelling of weed?" Darry said, though there was no real animosity behind his words. Ever since the fight the night Soda had been jumped he had been making a special effort to remain on civil terms with Pony, and the effort was not lost on the middle brother. He appreciated it greatly.

"Darry, I haven't had a smoke for two whole days!" Pony cried in frustration. "I felt like I was going mad!"

"And I haven't had a smoke since I was fifteen," Darry said. "Seriously, _not _around the house."

Pony rolled his eyes. "What're you doing with my chem work, Soda?" he asked as he served himself and sat down to eat.

Soda shut the book and stood to serve himself. "I'm curious," said Soda, giving Pony the same answer he had given Darry. It was the truth.

Pony exchanged a glance with Darry. Soda hated school, hated learning, and chemistry was no exception. He pulled his chemistry book closer to himself so he would not forget it the next day.

Soda was in a strange mood; of that there was no doubt. Pony shrugged and thought nothing of it. He had the coming weekend to plan for.

X X X X

"Steve, can you drive me to the hospital?" Soda asked out of the blue as they sat on the couch together.

Steve stared at Soda. "Why? Are you okay?" They had spent most of the morning talking – well, Steve had, at least. Apparently Two-Bit had broken his promise and had blabbed to Soda all about that girl at the DX the other day, not that he wouldn't have told Soda himself, of course. Steve had had to divulge that she was good for a screw, but his mind was wandering back more and more frequently to Evie. He barely recalled the other girl's name anymore.

"I'm fine," reassured Soda. "There's someone there I want to talk to."

Steve frowned in confusion. "Who?"

"I dunno," Soda said thoughtfully. "We'll find out. Come on, please take me… Darry's got the truck and there ain't any buses for an hour, and I'm certainly not walking."

"Er… yeah, I'll take you," said Steve hesitantly. He didn't know what the hell Soda was thinking about. "I don't see what you plan on achieving."

"I just want to ask a doctor something, and we can't afford to make an appointment unless I actually need it. We don't know anyone who's a doctor, so my best bet is that I'll spot one going out on lunch break who won't be able to resist my charm."

Steve was still baffled by his friend's plan, but he smiled. He was glad Soda was getting better. He never would have thought that steroids could be used to treat asthma, but Soda had been on this stuff before several times and Steve knew by now that it worked wonders. "Right; gorgeous little Sodapop, off to flirt his way into medical school… Let's go, then."

The ride to the hospital was short, and it was easy to find a parking lot, so by the time the engine had been switched off, only ten minutes had passed.

"You can wait here, if you like," said Soda. "It might take a while… doctors tend to be awful busy."

Steve nodded mutely, his mind still trying to fathom why Soda actually _wanted _to go to a hospital. He also sensed, somewhere deep down, that Soda did not actually want him in there. This was something more than it seemed; something very personal, whatever it was. "Yeah… yeah, I'll just wait here," he mumbled.

"Thanks, Steve," said Soda, grinning broadly and opening his car door.

Steve watched him as he passed through the doors to the hospital. Soda was acting incredibly strangely, though he would not push it. Soda was his best friend; if he wanted Steve to know, he'd tell. If he didn't, there was obviously a very good reason.

Steve slumped down as far as he could in his seat and put his feet up on the dashboard on either side of the steering wheel to wait.

X X X X  
"And then, just when things couldn't get any more embarrassing for poor old Mr Super Soc, his girl dumps her drink all over his head and leaves the café, just like that!" Two-Bit said, waving his arms to dramatically emphasize the story. "It was the funniest attempt at dumping a girl I've seen in months!"

Pony laughed softly, though only enough to soothe Two-Bit's ego. His nose was buried in a new book he had just bought at the Black Cat. Peter, the weekend guy, wasn't as nice as Soda and had insisted he either pay or leave, not go around reading everything. Pony had paid for the book, and was swiftly realizing it was a wise move. This book was good.

Two-Bit took the last bite of his sandwich, and Pony could see his friend's eyes watching his own unfinished one like a hawk. He pushed the plate over. "Take it; I ain't that hungry," he said.

Two-Bit smiled and took the sandwich. Right as he went to take his very first bite, the door to the café swung open and a group of three Socs walked in. This was not all that surprising; the café was one of those places in the middle in which you could encounter people on any stage of the social hierarchy ladder, but it didn't mean it wasn't irritating. They were talking in fairly loud voices, and at the mention of a name, Pony pricked up his ears to listen.

"Yeah, but Randy always thinks he can control the whole lot of us," said one Soc who looked like he had a lot of skull and not much to fill it. "Just because he lost Bob, doesn't mean the rest of us have to stop hating greasers! Man, he ought to hate 'em more than we do! They're the reason Bob's gone!"

The Socs sat down at a table two away from Pony and Two-Bit. "Yeah, I reckon!" said a more intelligent looking Soc. Pony knew he was smart; he was in his class at school. His name was Andy. "I dunno why he thinks he can just _expect _us not to jump that grease's brother. I mean, no one in _their _crew died!"

Pony felt a strange lurch in his gut, and he saw Two-Bit's eyes harden until they resembled flint. Of course nobody remembered Dally and Johnny. They had been just two no-good hoods with nothing in life to look forward to and nothing to be proud of. Not like Bob.

The third Soc was one whom Pony had worked with on a school project the year before. He was quite a nice guy, actually; though he showed up for rumbles (who didn't?) Pony knew he never jumped greasers. "Yeah, but Pony's brother's real sick. It was cowardice, what Fred and his buddies did. They didn't have the guts to take on anyone in a fair fight, so they went four against one when they knew the one couldn't look after himself. From what I heard, they would have kept going until they killed him if his mates didn't show up. I for one have noticed their constant lack of presence at rumbles. They're cowards, the whole lot."

"You're crazy, Trevor," said the first Soc. "The thing is that they killed Bob. Randy not wanting us to do anything has nothing to do with it; if one of our crew dies, I think that gives us leave to prey off their weakest link. Who knows, we jump him often enough and maybe they'll stop bothering us?"

Pony almost felt sick by this point in the conversation. Clearly they hadn't noticed him, or they would not be talking like this here. He was not about to draw attention to himself by making a scene.

Trevor sighed, knowing the argument was lost. "Well, I'm not having anything to do with it. And if that kid ends up in hospital, we'll all be held responsible."

"Whatever. It's not like they can afford lawyers anyway," said Andy.

The conversation moved onto other, less dangerous topics. Two-Bit caught Pony's eye, and with a movement of his head, indicated that it was time for them to leave. The gang had some serious thinking to do.

X X X X

**A/N**: What do you think? Please review! Theories still welcome, though I won't tell you if you're right or wrong at this point 


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone who is continuing to R&R this fic! Longer one for you guys today.

I know this has been moving fairly slowly, but pace picks up from here on. Please bear with me!

X X X X

"When you and Johnny were in Windrixville it was all out war between greaser and Soc over here," said Two-Bit slowly, taking a long drag on his cigarette. Ponyboy's cigarette had practically not left his mouth since they had exited the café. "I dunno how many times I got jumped, but it would've been about three or four easy. Thought the rumble woulda smoothed their emotions out, but apparently not…"

"You can't just smooth out the emotions when it comes to the death of a friend," said Pony through the cigarette blocking his mouth. "You and I learned that. The rumble didn't make us feel any better about Dally and Johnny, even if they weren't gone till after."

"Yeah, but they're Socs."

"But they're also people. People don't take good to losing friends."

Two-Bit sighed. "You're real wise, Ponyboy." The cocky grin replaced itself on Two-Bit's face. "But you know, you and me could teach that Soc trash a lesson. We could smash up their car, or maybe drive by and chuck stuff at their house?"

Pony scowled. "No, Two-Bit. You _want _them to jump Sodapop again? Just because he's lived with asthma his whole life doesn't mean it still can't be the thing that kills him!"

"Aw, c'mon, Pony, they won't do anything if we scare 'em bad enough!"

"They're threatening us with doing something that could kill my brother, Two-Bit!" Pony yelled. "How the hell is that funny to you? They've already attacked him, and he very well could've died if me and Steve didn't get him medicine! The only thing that'll keep them in line is if we threaten them with killing one of their guys, and I sure as hell ain't gonna do that!"

"Ah, whatever…"muttered Two-Bit as he stood up, putting his foot down on his cigarette and grounding it into the pavement. "I'm off for a beer."

"Fine!" yelled Pony. "Go get your stupid alcohol! It's all you care about!" Two-Bit did not look back as he walked towards his car. "And you better not tell Steve any of this, either!"

Two-Bit got in the car and started the ignition, driving back towards his house. He didn't want to go to any type of bar; he felt like getting drunk in private. Pony's words had hurt more than he let on. Who did that kid think he was? Of course he cared about Sodapop! Pony's reasoning made perfect sense – in fact, Two-Bit agreed one hundred per cent. It was a stupid idea to provoke the Socs. He just had a rep to uphold; that was why he said he didn't care, that they would do nothing! Pony should have known him better.

But what Pony had said was true. People didn't take lightly to losing buddies – or brothers. Perhaps Two-Bit should have respected that more.

X X X X

"Well, nobody really knows what causes it," said the man whose nametag read Dr Falkens. Soda had been wandering around the hospital for around twenty minutes, speaking to doctors who had rudely pushed him aside, before meeting this man. His assignment at that moment was simply to oversee a bunch of medical students from a university and help with any problems they might have, but it was a clever bunch of people, and so he had time to indulge Soda's questioning. "There could be many factors, like a respiratory illness as an infant, or a weakness to airborne particles, or simply maybe the fact that it runs in the family."

Soda frowned in confusion. "Okay," he said slowly. "Er, is respiratory illness common?"

"Well, it depends on the type. Yes, that goes in that tray over there," he added. The medical student nodded and scurried off.

"Type? I don't know what you mean."

Dr Falkens frowned for a moment before realizing what the other was talking about. "Oh! Respiratory illness isn't a disease or something in the sense you are thinking of. It's the name we give to sicknesses that affect the lungs, like perhaps a cold, or bronchitis."

"Right," said Soda, not the least bit embarrassed. He knew and accepted the fact that he was dumb. "And with airborne particles, you mean like soot or something?"

"It could be, but it could also be pollen from flowering plants, or pollution in the air. Lots of asthmatics say cigarette smoke is what sets them off the worst, so personally I blame that as well."

"And with family inheritance stuff… if that's the case, why are my brothers okay?"

"Oh, you have asthma yourself?" Dr Falkens said. "Well, it could be that a parent or grandparent, or maybe even great grandparent had asthma, and that they passed the gene down – the gene is what makes you inherit it – but the gene did not affect your other relatives, but only showed itself in you. Genetic science is quite complex."

"Oh," said Soda. He knew the doctor was putting things more simply than he would have had it been Darry or Pony here asking questions, but he didn't mind. He knew the doctor was doing it out of consideration for his educational level, not out of the wish to sound patronizing or belittle him. Soda didn't have a problem with anything if it was done in good faith.

"Er, I actually have quite a number of leaflets and booklets on the subject in my office – if you're interested, that is. What grade science project is it for?"

"Oh, it ain't for school," said Soda. "Nah, man, I hate school; I dropped out. I just… I guess I just want to know why I feel this way, you know?" It was true. Soda had matured so much in the last year, and he could tell. He had had the same love of life all throughout his seventeen years, but while previously he had simply wanted to have fun, now the love of life had developed into a deep dedication. He wanted to know why he lived, how he lived. And a part of that was coming to terms with the way his body worked.

He was not the least bit embarrassed about revealing the fact that he was a dropout to this doctor, though he knew Pony had trouble admitting that fact to anyone at all. But he did expect the frown that came most times, the comments on how that had been a silly idea. However, that never came. This man was a doctor – obviously quite smart – and he simply ignored the fact. "Good for you," he said. "Learning for learning's sake is far more precious than the learning that comes from detention threats. That is a very honourable realization."

Soda felt the beginnings of pride come to his stomach. Nobody had ever told him _that _before. That was a compliment on how he attended to his education, wasn't it? Soda beamed.

"Ah, yes – Brenda!" A young nurse who had been aiding some of the students looked up. "Would you go to my office and get that package we give to people who have been diagnosed with asthma?" She nodded and left, and Dr Falkens turned back to Soda. "The basic information is all in that handout, but if you want anything more specific, don't hesitate to give me a call." He handed Soda a business card. "I love helping young people learn – technically I don't _have _to be here; I could be doing something much more exciting, like actually treating patients."

The nurse – Brenda – returned with the requested folder, which she handed to Soda. Soda glanced inside as he made his way out of the hospital and back towards the parking lot. Some of the pamphlets had information he knew like he knew Two-Bit liked to crack jokes – information on how to treat a sudden flare up – but there were others as well. Soda didn't concentrate too much on that for the moment, however. His mind was replaying the compliment he had just received from a man who had already achieved more than he could ever hope to achieve should he live to be one hundred.

X X X X

"What the hell did you do to this thing?" Steve said in wonderment.

"You know man, you wouldn't believe it even if I saw fit to grace you with the tale," said Tim Shepard, looking at his own absolutely wrecked car with a sense of something akin to pride, though why on earth he would be proud of wrecking his car was beyond Steve. It was a miracle it had even survived the drive to the shop. The front bonnet was completely caved in, the windshield shattered, and there was something strange sticking straight through the front of the car, coming out on the inside and spearing the front passenger seat. When he opened it up later, he would discover that the only reason it still ran was that it was one of those strange cars that held its engine in the trunk. He supposed it _was_ a beauty, in a way.

"How'd you survive?" Steve asked, running his hand along the scratched and dented side door.

"You know, I don't rightly know." Tim was still smiling at his car. "It's all a bit hazy. I did wake up with this, though." He pulled up the leg of his jeans to reveal a nasty gouge in his calf. Steve supposed it had to look worse than it actually was, otherwise there was no way in hell Tim would be walking right now. "Hurts like a bitch, but it ain't that bad. I reckon the only reason it stopped bleeding so fast was that when I was getting out I burnt it on something. Staunched it."

Steve swore and Tim lowered the pant leg. "You know this thing'll cost you quite a bit to repair, and I ain't going to do it on a promise again. That mistake almost cost me my job."

"Name a number."

Steve was momentarily surprised. He had suspected Tim would argue, threaten to take his business elsewhere and remove any assistance from his crew in rumbles. He looked back at the car. "Well, I'll have to beat out all the misshapen metal, for starters –"

"I said name a number."

Now Steve was really stunned. He knew Tim didn't have money. He had seen his house. Then his surprise turned to suspicion. He must have done something really bad to have the funds to agree to pay for this. "I won't know until I take a look, but I'll do it for a fifty dollar deposit, then get back to you with a full amount. But Tim, seriously, I suggest you just get a new one."

Tim shoved a fifty dollar bill into his hand. "Try and hurry. I need my wheels."

X X X X

Pony was now rather regretting yelling at Two-Bit. Now he was stuck walking all the way back home, and it was a long way. He couldn't even hop on a bus; he had spent all the money he had brought on lunch and that book.

He heard tires come screeching behind him and turned to look. Behind him was a car – a real tuff car. And filling it, leaning out of windows, yelling and jeering, were a whole load of Socs.

He didn't think twice. He just ran. He'd been jumped before, but now, after the conversation he had overheard, after he realized they had no qualms about hurting the brother of the one they blamed for their buddy's death, he was scared. He could run real fast; he knew he could. But no matter how fast he could run, he couldn't outrun a Corvair.

He placed all his faith in his ability to maneuver, but he knew that wouldn't help much. As they finally cornered him in a side street flanked by two tall buildings, Pony felt the tiny tendrils of fear beginning to fill him, and his breathing, already fast from running, increased further. _Is this what Soda feels when he gets an attack_? he thought to himself idly. Adrenaline makes strange things come to one's mind.

There were five Socs, advancing slowly. It was only when the reflection of the sun glanced off something that Pony knew they were all carrying knives. Fear slowly became panic. Previously, he might not have thought they'd actually do it, but back in that café, they had practically been planning making Soda have an attack bad enough to kill him. Was stabbing really that much different? No, he decided. You still ended up dead.

Pony's eyes began darting from side to side, looking for a way out. Running back was not an option; it ended in the secured door to an apartment block. Just great.

One noticed his intent. "Relax, grease, we're not gonna kill you," he said.

"What're you gonna do then?" Pony asked. "Mutilate me? That's so much better." Sarcasm dripped from his voice.

"These are just here to stop you doing the very thing you're planning on doing," said the Soc, indicating the knife in his hand. "Listen up and we won't have to use 'em. We know it was one of your crew what trashed up Randy's house."

The adrenaline thundering through Pony's veins lessened as confusion set in. "What? What happened?"

"Don't play dumb," said another Soc, this one to Pony's right. He was wearing far too much expensive cologne; Pony could smell it strongly from where he was standing, ten feet away. "There's a huge hole in his wall. They've had to move out. Who but a greaser would do that?"

Pony could think of a few people. It seemed Randy was not the most popular Soc out there after his attempt to make others see sense in what they had done to Sodapop. He decided he would just play along. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Tell your trash friends to watch their backs. Your names are mud round our territory, and there are people who won't mind showing their feelings. We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt. Only reason we're letting you off is because we know Randy likes you. He was our buddy. Now his whole family is living at his aunt's. You think about that; think where your loyalties lie."

The Socs backed off slowly, their knives remaining drawn until they got into the car and drove off. Pony sat, shaking slightly and breathing heavily, against the side of a building. This was turning into a whole different ball game…

X X X X

**A/N**: Hm, what happened to poor ol' Randy? Theories?

Please leave a review! Any correct theory gets to go to my gym lesson in my place tomorrow! (I hate exercise… I know…)


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N**: Wow, I haven't updated in a whole two days! None of you would guess it with the amount of updating I've been doing (and none of this is prewritten – though don't worry, it IS preplanned) but I've been juggling school, catching up six months' missed school (long story involving Canada), helping my mum with some of her volunteer work, a huge drama festival (which has fortunately finished now) that at times called for as much as 15 hour days, having a tiny bout of what possibly may have been swine flu and fairly bad asthma. Anyway, I'm afraid it's starting to show in the bags under my eyes and the sudden onslaught of a desperate need to sleep so the twice daily updates will probably have to stop. Especially since I'm starting filming tomorrow for a friend's film fest entry which will take a while… Yeah. I'm busy.

Also IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: Last chapter I realized I did not make something clear. It spanned over two days (the weekend) so Steve WAS actually waiting for Soda in the car at the hospital, but then the scene between Steve and Tim took place the next day, on Sunday. I'm sorry for any confusion!

And lastly, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed! You guys are the best!

X X X X

Pony rolled over for about the umpteenth time that hour. Soda was asleep next to him, and he was coughing badly – he had ever since his rib broke – but that wasn't what was keeping him from sleep. He had driven by Randy's house that afternoon with Darry, and his mind just kept replaying what he had witnessed.

X X X X

"_You know, I'm really proud of you, Pony," said Darry as they made their way through the largely unfamiliar Soc streets, the road atlas open on Ponyboy's lap. "You don't hate Socs."_

_He said it so simply, and Pony looked up at him, confused. "How come you're proud of me for that? I thought you hated Socs too."_

_Darry sighed. "It's complicated," he said. "But you have been able to overcome prejudices. I'm glad."_

_Pony would have questioned him further, but at that moment they made the turn onto Randy's street. Pony had never seen his house before, but he knew it was the third one on the left, identified by the sheer destruction of the place._

_It had been one hell of a tuff house; that much was clear. No longer. Now, the gardens were destroyed, grass torn up somehow and dirt covering the pavement. A stone ornament had been smashed, chunks now littering the entire front yard. But that was not the worst of the damage._

_One side of Randy's house was fine, the picture window that was framed by curtains on the inside showing a clean looking, undisturbed dining set. The other was a gaping hole straight into the side of the building, the wall completely pushed out by some extreme force. On the inside, an overturned couch and a smashed up television lying on the ground showed that this had once been their living room. A coffee table had been split entirely in half and was lying on opposite sides of the room. The second storey of the house seemed to be caving slightly with the lack of supp__ort beneath it. The entire property was surrounded by police tape._

_Darry let out a low whistle. He did not stop the car at the risk of being questioned by the police milling around the property, but his eyes, wide as Pony's, watched the scene intently, committing it to memory._

_Pony was speechless. It looked as though someone had set off a bomb there, though he couldn't think why on earth anyone would do that. Sure, Randy had lost a few friends amongst the Socs, but a polite request to stop the bloodlust could not possibly warrant anyone to want him homeless. The other option was that it had been one of Pony's own friends, seeking revenge for what the Socs did to Soda. Two-Bit had spoken about trashing a Soc house, but Pony was about as soon to blame Two-Bit as he was to blame Cherry Valance. For one thing, where would he have gotten a bomb?_

_Then there was Steve. Pony was relatively certain Steve did not know who beat up Soda, so he could have simply chosen to trash a random Soc house to teach the lot a lesson. Still, as much as Pony did not like Steve, he didn't think he would do anything like this. _

_And poor Randy, forced to move in with his aunt. He probably had the money__ or the insurance to fix this, but it would take time. It wasn't fair that he should have to search for a place to live._

_He sighed as Darry turned the car up another street and they headed towards home._

X X X X

Pony turned over again. He had school in the morning, and he knew he should be trying to get some sleep. Easier said then done, though…

Sodapop coughed again and Pony fought the sudden mad urge to wake him just so he could get some shut eye. Deep down, he knew it was just frustration talking. He usually slept through Soda coughing without any trouble at all. This was something different.

X X X X

Pony did not see Randy at school the next day, and though that simply may have been because they were in different grades and had no classes together, Pony suspected something different.

He garnered glares from both Soc and middle class students in the corridors all throughout the day, even from people he had never met before. He thought somebody must have been telling stories about him and tried to ignore it, but all in all, he was feeling pretty lousy, and when someone called his name in the corridor after final period, he could not stop himself from swinging around angrily. "_What_?" he snapped.

Cherry Valance looked a little taken aback. "I – I'm sorry, Ponyboy; if this isn't a good time –"

"No!" said Pony, regretting his moment of temper. "No, I'm sorry. I guess I'm just stressed. What is it?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," she said softly. "People have been saying some real horrid stuff about you…"

Pony scowled. "Yeah, what _have _they been saying?" Cherry looked slightly unwilling to reveal the information, and Pony sought to placate her. "I won't do anything, I just – I want to know," he finished with an imploring look.

"They're saying you organized what happened to Randy's house," said Cherry quietly, watching Pony as though almost frightened he might react badly. "They ain't saying you did it. They're saying you had the idea… that you convinced some hoodlum friend to do it."

Pony felt rage at the injustice boil in his stomach. He was just as upset about what had happened to Randy as any Soc, possibly more. The repercussions of the act – be it committed by Soc or greaser – could prove to be more than Pony could afford. "Why the hell would they assume that?"

"Well, they did hurt your brother," said Cherry quietly. "And they think it's the perfect opportunity to place the blame on the one they still blame for – for Bob." Pony could see the remnants of grief still in Cherry's eyes. He had been her boyfriend… "How is Soda?"

"He's okay now. Back at work today."

"I'm glad." The conversation drifted off as Cherry watched Pony and Pony watched the wall opposite, not out of rudeness, but the need to think. "Well… I'll see you around, Pony."

A thought came as Cherry began to walk away. "Cherry?" Pony called.

She turned back. "Yeah?"

"Did you say it wasn't me?"

Cherry smiled as though the answer was obvious. "Course I did."

Pony smiled. "Thanks." He watched as she exited the school building. He was alone now, alone with nothing but thoughts to fill his mind. "Thanks a lot…"

X X X X

Sodapop felt terrible. He had switched from the prescription pain pills to simple aspirin that morning, and the change was taking its toll. His rib burned through the medicine, the stress of the injury aggravating his asthma and making it just that much more difficult to breathe. He had gotten through the working day speaking as little as possible, sitting on his chair behind the counter and counting down the hours until he could take his next aspirin. He didn't know how many times he had taken the inhaler.

The only light at the end of the tunnel was that Darry was coming to collect him after he finished work. He always did on Mondays, but now, after an argument over breakfast (Darry and Pony versus Soda and no one) Darry would be picking him up every day, or getting either Steve or Two-Bit to do it for him. He wasn't about to let Soda walk home again.

He glanced at the clock. Darry was due two minutes ago. Soda usually wouldn't have minded, but now he just wanted to get home and into a warm bath. That would feel nice…

He heard the shop door open and standing there – _finally! _– was Darry. Soda smiled and mouthed a "Hey" in his direction. No way was he going to talk unless absolutely necessary.

"Hey, you okay, little buddy?" Darry asked, noticing at once the pained expression on the paler than normal face. His sympathy and protectiveness grew simultaneously as Soda shook his head slowly. "Do you need to go to the hospital?"

Soda gave him an incredulous look. "No!" he said, wincing. "I just – I just feel crap." Darry could be so overprotective…

"You shouldn't have gone to work today," said Darry. He took the keys from Soda as they exited the building and locked the door to the Black Cat for him. Soda didn't like moving around very much when he became sick like this, and Darry just wanted to get him home.

"How was work?" he asked a few minutes later as they were driving through the quiet streets. Barely any other motorists were using the road in spite of the fact that it was only a little past five. Darry looked towards his brother when he didn't answer. Soda was giving him the second incredulous look of the evening. He was holding his cracked rib tightly, and Darry could see that he was breathing very quickly and very shortly, trying to fill up as little of his lungs as possible to avoid the worst of the pain. "Right, stupid question. You'll never guess what happened to me, though." Soda's gaze turned questioning. "I finished that roof I've been working on a whole week early, and the boss gave me a huge bonus."

Soda's eyes widened with surprise. "Congratulations, Darry," he said. His voice sounded strained, and he said nothing more, but Darry knew how he felt. Soda knew how difficult it was to finish something on time in the construction industry – the time allotted never made allowances for things like the weather and (Soda felt guilty) taking brothers to the doctor – and to finish one a week early was amazing.

Neither of them knew at that moment how much they would come to need Darry's bonus money in the near future.

X X X X

Clap for Darry! Yay! What a good roofer.Hm, what shall happen? Review to find out! Today's for any correct theory is (drumroll) my homework on Robert Frost poetry (no, NOT the poem from Outsiders, elseways I'd be doing it myself).


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: Thank you so much to reviewers and to everyone that is reading this still! You guys are the reason I'm giving away my bandwidth to post!

Wow, chapter 13 already? Can't believe it...

X X X X

"Hello, Dr Falkens? It's Soda Curtis; I spoke to you the other day, I don't know if you remember…You do? Oh, good. Well, about the information, I've read it, and I was wondering if I could get anything a little more… specific? No, that's not a problem; I can learn that…"

Pony watched his older brother speak on the telephone while slowly munching on a corner of toast. Soda had not mentioned wanting to talk to any doctor o him. Or maybe he had, and Pony either did not remember or had not listened. Soda _had _been reading his chemistry notes lately… was he sick? Was he on some sort of new medication? Even then, this was _Soda_; why would he bother researching anything? Was it perhaps more dangerous than his normal stuff? Was Pony going to lose his big brother?

He pulled himself out of the entrapment of his overactive imagination with some effort. Soda had spoken to doctors often enough in the past. He wasn't dead.

Soda hung up the telephone and sat back down at the table. "What was that about?" asked Pony.

"A doctor," said Soda. His breathing was slightly troubled, and he was not speaking very loudly because of it, but it was clear enough. "I want to learn more about myself. He's helping me."

"_You _want to _learn_?" said Pony disbelievingly.

"Yes, I do, Ponyboy, and I'd like it if you don't assume I can't," Soda snapped. "Just because you're smarter than me –" He choked off his final words. Casting one last, hurt look at Pony, he stood abruptly and moved off to their bedroom.

Darry brushed past him as he entered the kitchen. Pony was shocked at his brother's reaction. Soda was so calm normally, and had certainly never taken offence to the fact that Pony and Darry were smarter than he was. He was almost proud of it, in a way, as though being clever was something to be ashamed about. _Or maybe_, whispered the other side of Pony's mind, _he only pretends he isn't upset…_

"What's his problem?" Pony asked Darry. "He hasn't acted like that since – since a while." _Since Sandy returned his letter and he told us the fighting had to stop…_

"Who, Soda?" Darry asked. He had the day off since he had already finished his project and was, for once, still in his pajamas at seven thirty. "Just ignore him. It's a side effect of the medication."

"Darry, what if it really does bother him that he's – well, that he's dumb?"

"It was his choice to drop out, Pony," said Darry. "He knows it, and I'm pretty sure he's accepted it. Just let him cool off."

X X X X

Soda rubbed angrily at his face as tears started to fall. Darry didn't know what he was talking about. Soda's own big brother didn't understand him. Sure, Soda knew he had failed school, but he had stayed home a huge proportion of his time there, whereas Darry and Pony had received uninterrupted education. That would explain some of it. But Soda knew he was less talented than the others, even if you took missed school into account. And, despite what everybody thought of him, it hurt.

He thought back to what Dr Falkens had said to him as he pulled on a clean shirt. He had been complimented before, but not for his smarts. People told him he was good looking often enough to let him know that it was true, but though that was nice, his looks was nothing he worked for. He just got it naturally.

It wasn't _fair_! He was too sick to work on himself physically, and he sure knew he was too dumb to work on himself mentally. He was working some dead-end job to try and make ends meet and he knew that wasn't likely to change in the foreseeable future. He had nothing really to be proud of. All he had was his looks. Looks and a ton of bills for Darry…

But Soda was not one to give in to despair. Drying his eyes hastily on a corner of his blanket, he came to a decision. He would not go through life with nothing to contribute, nothing to live for. He'd make himself something to live for. He'd prove Darry and Pony and everyone else wrong.

X X X X

"Don't even try and tell me you're going to work today," said Darry as Soda came out of the bedroom, fully dressed. He still looked down, but Darry ignored it, thinking it was simply the meds he was on messing with his mood.

"I am," said Soda shortly, "and I'm taking the truck. You don't need it today."

"Hold up, Soda," said Darry as one brother took the keys from the nail in the wall they were hung on while the other shouted a goodbye and left to walk to school. "You looked terrible yesterday and I don't want you to get like that again. Just take the day off."

"You and I both know that neither our family nor Mr Brumley can afford me to take any more time off," said Soda, not backing an inch. Lord, but he was determined… "I'm going in today."

"Sodapop –" Darry started, but Soda was already out the door. Darry swore as he heard the engine to the truck start and Soda back out noisily, brakes screeching as he moved onto the road. The eldest Curtis just hoped Soda didn't do anything stupid…

X X X X

Steve frowned slightly as he finally removed the long pole like thing that had speared the front of Steve's car. He had had to beat out a few panels to get it to budge, but now it was in his hands, and he was puzzled as to what it was. It was thick and made of brass, the base a large circle with a frayed end of wire coming out. The other end had something white and plastic stuck to it, and there was a little metal knob coming out. It was only when he flicked the metal knob that Steve realized what this had once been: a tall, standing lamp designed for a luxury home.

Steve frowned in confusion. What had Tim been doing?

X X X X

**A/N**: Any theories?

Poor Soda, he's all self insecure. We've all been there… And I've been on the stuff he's on, it DOES make you incredibly insecure! I thought my mother didn't like me, lol! I'm sorry, Mum!

Please review! I love getting them and seeing what readers think!


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N**: There are slight technical mentions during the story, but I promise it won't turn into your science textbook. There is only just enough to keep the story realistic.

Thank you so much to reviewers! You guys are the best!

X X X X

Soda walked inside the hospital as fast as his hurting lungs and rib would allow. He was not as badly off as yesterday as his body began to get used to the lack of the strong painkillers, but it was all still quite sore. Dr Falkens had told him to meet him in his office, saving him the time needed to report to reception. Soda was using his lunch break, and he only had half an hour. He was just lucky the Black Cat was closer to the hospital than his own home was.

Soda did not find it difficult to locate the office on the third floor of the well planned building. He knocked on the door and waited only a moment before it was answered and he was invited to sit on a chair opposite the doctor's desk.

"Hello, Soda," said Dr Falkens with a smile Soda knew wasn't forced. "How are you?"

"Fine," Soda lied.

"This stuff I've dug up is actually something I learned first year medical school," he said without any further preamble. "It gets pretty complex, I'm afraid, speaks of beta 1 versus beta 2 bronchioles and how asthma affects beta 2. Are you okay with that?"

"I actually already know about them," said Soda, and he felt a surge of pride and satisfaction when the doctor's eyebrows went up.

"Well, then," he said. "Well, what more do you want to know? You're already pretty far in if you know about that. And how did you learn that?"

"I work in a bookstore," said Soda. "Spent the morning reading. As for what I want to know…" He leaned forward. "Everyone says I'm dumb, from my brothers to my teachers to my enemies. It's probably true, but I know I can change that! I want you to help me, or recommend someone else who would be willing to put a lot of time and effort into this."

Dr Falkens was still staring at Sodapop with an expression of amazement. "If you want this just to prove a point…"

"That ain't just it, though, is it?" Soda said, beginning to get a little excited now. "I could help people! I ain't the only one with this _impairment_;" – he spat the word like a curse – "there are thousands – millions – of others! I could help them!"

"If you're suggesting –"

"I want a cure," said Soda with certainty. "I don't want to live like this the rest of my life, and I know others don't! I don't want to work some dead end job with pay so low and health so poor I'll be dependent on my big brother even when my younger one goes off to college – which I know he _will_! My whole family's smart. There's no reason I can't be either."

Dr Falkens was now shaking his head in denial, his eyes still with the expression of amazement, now tinged with a hint of incredulity. "Look, there are thousands of scientists who have tried and failed!" he cried. "I'm sorry to say this so bluntly, Soda, but this _crusade _is destined to failure! _No one _can cure asthma, and I am very sorry to say this, but certainly not a seventeen year old high school dropout!"

Soda remained unfazed. "That's why I want you to help me," he said. "Please? We have to try, at the very least. If I don't do this, then there is no reason for me even to be alive. What kind of person can take from life and give nothing back? I know you give; you do it every day. But I _can't_, and I so desperately want to –" He was cut off as his heightened emotions triggered a coughing fit, and he held his hurting rib as he reached with his other hand into his bag for his inhaler.

"I'm only a doctor," said the other quietly as Soda tried to hold his breath. "I'm no high ranking medical research scientist. I'm not the smartest guy, either, and the smartest guys still have not done it."

"You won't know – till you try," gasped Soda. He coughed a couple more times before he felt the medicine begin to take effect and his breathing eased slightly. His rib still hurt terribly, and so he reached for his bag again, this time pulling out an aspirin. "And those guys – they don't go through what I go through every day! We'd put in more effort than they ever would."

"What did you just take?" Dr Falkens asked sharply. "Was that an aspirin tablet?"

"Yeah," said Soda. "I cracked my rib last Thursday."

"You shouldn't be taking them," said the doctor. "They can be quite dangerous for asthmatics; didn't you know that?"

Soda shook his head slowly, a sinking feeling coming to his stomach.

"They can make you quite sick," cautioned Dr Falkens. "I wouldn't take any more, if I were you. That may be why you just suffered a coughing fit."

X X X X

Soda was feeling thoroughly dejected as he returned to work ten minutes late. He was just lucky Mr Brumley was his boss in name only; he was too old to actually run the store physically. All he suffered were the glares of two little old ladies who had been waiting outside for him to return so they could buy their books.

Dr Falkens had refused to help him. Not only that, but Soda had just found out that he was going to have to go through at least the rest of the day with no painkillers. He'd have to go home and discuss his options with Darry.

Soda had wondered why the asthma pills only worked for the first few days he was on them. His health had deteriorated rapidly from the moment he had switched to aspirins; he realized that now. He was neither a fool nor willing to gamble his life on the chance for a slightly reduced amount of pain. He knew how dangerous asthma could be.

He was now regretting coming to work with an intensity that surprised him. He liked his job for the moment, but it was only supposed to be a temporary thing, something to help with the bills until Pony got into college. It was not until later he realized that he was either too dumb or too sick for any other type of work; technically, he should not have been working at all. Looking around the small bookstore was nothing more than a reminder of that fact.

Then he had had some tiny sliver of hope that his life could maybe lead to something better, that maybe he could get rid of his cursed affliction, and do something more interesting, like perhaps doing what he had wanted to do since he was a little kid: work with Steve at the DX. But now, that hope was void. Who had he been kidding? If Dr Falkens was too dumb to invent a cure, then Sodapop Curtis had not even a chance of a shot at it.

He was wrong to have had a dream, to hope for something better. He knew that now.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor Soda! That last bit made me so sad to write about! And now he can't have painkillers. Yes, I was planning that from the moment I prescribed him (insert evil laugh here).

Be honest; were you or were you not surprised by what Soda asked Falky? I want to hear some responses! Reviews make the world go round!


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**: Special disclaimer for this chapter: I am a 16 year old prude who has never been drunk. Neither do my parents drink, nor sisters, nor friends, so I have done the most realistic drunk I can manage, but if it seems a little… stupid, that's why.

Thank you so much to everyone still going with this! You guys are the best! And especially thank you to those who took the time to leave a review!

X X X X

"Why'd you plow your car into the side of that Soc's house, huh?"

It was asked so suddenly, so blatantly, that Tim let a tiny hint of shock at the other's discovery creep over his face before carefully replacing it with the mask of absolute cool and control. "So how'd you know that, Two-Bit Mathews? Were you watching me?"

"You're proud of it, ain't you?" Two-Bit was slightly drunk, drunk enough to be a little unsteady on his feet but sober enough to know what he was talking about. What was new about the whole situation was that he was not, for once, a happy drunk. "What'd that guy ever do to you? Why'd you do it?"

"He's a Soc," said Tim simply. "Ain't that enough?"

"No, it ain't!" Two-Bit gave Tim a slight push, which the powerful leader of the Shepard gang brushed off.

"You're outta your territory, Two-Bit, and I'm willing to keep this friendly if you are. Now I'll tell you why I did it once you tell me how you found out."

"I didn't," said Two-Bit, his goofy smile suddenly replacing the scowl he had worn earlier. "You told me, just now!" He began laughing to himself.

Tim scowled. "Real funny, Two-Bit." But inwardly, he was cursing himself. He shouldn't have fallen for that. "But I'm a nice guy, and I'll tell you why I did it now, mostly since it concerns your crew." Two-Bit's laugh was gone and he looked at Tim with eyes that were once more serious. "Them Socs, they like their money. Us greasers, we like our people. They attacked Sodapop – now that's a place where it hurts. So I attacked them where it hurts: their wallets."

Two-Bit's face screwed up into a frown of concentration. "But you don't like Sodapop."

"I don't particularly care about him," clarified Tim. "I don't care about him in another instance, but here, he's as much my concern as Curly. It's Socs attacking a greaser. You dig?"

Two-Bit's frown remained a moment longer before breaking back into his cocky grin.

"'Sides," said Tim, turning back to the blade he was sharpening, "your crew wouldn't attack them, not even to defend your own. Not like I did. And I got a good bit of cash outta their house before I had to beat it. I never woulda thought anyone, even Socs, would be that stupid."

"You'll have to buy me a drink one night and tell me all about it, then," said Two-Bit. Beer was nice and all, but free beer was what really tasted the greatest.

Tim paid him no heed and continued sharpening that knife with an attention to detail Two-Bit had not seen since he lost his own switch.

X X X X

"I had a thought today, Pony," said Darry as the news program switched to the commercial break. They were sitting in the living room, having just finished their dinner. Pony, Soda and Steve were all sharing the couch, Steve sporting a brand new set of bruises from his old man. He hadn't told the Curtises what had gone wrong this time, and they hadn't asked. "You're not getting much more ready than you are now, and it's a good skill to have, especially round here. If we're careful nobody'll find out, and if they do, it won't be that bad."

"Make a point, Darry," said Pony, but his tone lacked the bite the words implied. He was smiling.

"How'd you like for Soda to teach you to drive?"

Well, _that _was unexpected. Ponyboy was only a little younger than the state requirement for a license, but both younger brothers knew Darry had always been a stickler for keeping the law, if for no other reason than to remain on the social services' good side. He was correct in saying that it was a good skill to have, and Curly Shepard had learned as soon as his legs were long enough to reach the pedals. _He'd _never been caught. "Sure," Pony said.

Soda was smiling too. He had been slightly down all afternoon, but whenever someone were to say something to him, a forced smile would be quickly replaced upon his features. It unnerved the other three slightly. Darry knew how much his brothers loved each other; though he cherished them both, he recognized – albeit painfully – that they did seem to get along so well together, and if anything could make Soda smile, it was cars and Ponyboy.

"Can we go now?" Soda asked, almost seeming to bounce with excitement.

Darry almost laughed. You would think that the student would be the one roaring off to go… "Only if you're feeling up to it, and no lies, little buddy, because I know you did that this morning!" Soda had already told him about the aspirin problem, and Darry had almost had a fit. He was certainly not taking Soda back to that idiot's medical practice again. He didn't want Soda to be focused on pain rather than Pony.

"I'm fine, Dare," said Soda. "Let's go!" Soda saw that not as lying, but as a slight extension of the truth. His ribs hurt, yes, but not as badly as they had that first day he had gone without medication before he had seen a doctor, and his asthma had settled without the aspirin to irritate it.

X X X X

As it turned out, Pony was not the most talented driver on the road. Soda had driven them out to a quiet road running through a field to practice, where he had been forced to attempt to break Pony out of the nasty habit of looking to check where the gas pedal was. Soda had let him keep practicing until one particular incident.

"How's my lane doing?" Pony asked as they came up to pass a parked car.

Soda looked out his window. There was a respectable distance between their car and the one parked on the right hand side of the road, and though Soda would prefer Pony to keep to the right a little more, it was acceptable. "You're fine," he said.

Then, for some reason completely inexplicable, Pony swerved the car to the right, only missing smashing into the parked car because of Soda's hand catching the wheel, bringing them back into the road. Soda swore violently.

"What the _hell _was that?" he said.

Pony was laughing nervously. "Sorry," he muttered.

Soda coughed. "Christ, I got problems enough with my lungs, you want to give me coronary arrest too? I think you're getting tired, Pone, pull over."

"Nah, I can keep going –"

"Pony, _I'm _tired, all right? That's the second time you almost killed us…" Pony had panicked earlier while coming up behind a parked car earlier, had gone for the brake and had hit the accelerator. Soda had saved them that time by yanking up the hand brake.

They swapped seats in silence that was punctuated by Soda coughing. "I'm sorry, Soda," said Pony in a small voice, handing Soda his inhaler. Soda took it wordlessly, and though deep down Pony knew he didn't speak because he couldn't, his mind could not help but whisper to him that he had made his brother mad.

It was another couple of minutes before Soda finally responded. "It's fine, Pone. Everyone stuffs up their first lesson, even Darry. He actually crashed, d'you remember?"

Pony still did not look up. "You didn't."

"No," said Soda, "but then, I'm just extraordinarily talented, aren't I?" He smiled and punched Pony lightly on the arm. "You did fine, Pone. Now, I wanna show you something, but you have to promise not to tell Darry."  
"I promise," said Pony, interest perking.

"No," said Soda. "You have to swear it. Swear never to tell another soul, least of all Darry."

"I swear," said Pony. What incredible secret could Soda have? He had never thought of him as the secret keeping type; he was too talkative.

"Okay," muttered Soda and put the truck back in gear.

They drove for a whole half hour in silence, Soda concentrating on the route and Pony trying to fathom what Soda had to show him. It was obviously big, or else they would not have to drive this far out of town to see. Pony had no idea how big.

They came over a crest on a hill, and the road was suddenly blocked off by a whole heap of teenagers. Some Pony knew only by sight, but some, like Tim Shepard, he had known for years. They were all there, Socs, greasers and the middle class, all standing around their cars that were parked haphazardly across the highway and the surrounding landscape. Most were drinking, some were already drunk. Soda parked the truck right there in the middle of the highway.

"Soda," said Pony, "what –"

"This is where I go when I'm feeling real low," said Soda, surveying the scene with eyes that showed fondness. "This is where I'm special, you know? I'm good at something here."

Pony had a sinking feeling about what was coming. "Soda," he muttered, "how could you?"

Soda turned to him, his face falling. "I thought you'd understand," he said quietly.

"Understand – Soda, you could kill yourself!" Pony cried. "Everyone here, but you – I thought you had more sense than to mess around with drugs!"

Soda frowned for a moment before breaking out into a smile. "Pony, this ain't a drug party," he said. "Everyone here who's serious remains sober – sober enough. Nah, this is drag racing, and tonight I'm going for the right to participate in the finals."

Pony was slightly placated, but still quite shocked. "How long has this been going on?"

"I'll tell you a secret – another one," said Soda. "I didn't mess up my first driving lesson because I already knew how to drive. Old Mr Brumley, he taught me when I was twelve. He organizes this whole thing every year." Soda was very much enjoying the look of jaw-dropping surprise on Pony's face.

"I thought you met him at your interview!"

"No!" Soda laughed. "Met him at the hospital when I had bronchitis. He's actually quite the character when you get to know his wild side!"

"You've been lying to us?" cried Ponyboy. He never would have expected this of Sodapop. As great as it was to see him so self-satisfied, Pony couldn't help but be offended. "Why didn't you tell us?"

"Want the truth?" Soda asked quietly. "You and Darry are complete overachievers. I just wanted to feel good about something. I know drag racing is completely useless. I know it's the one thing I'm good at and that basically means I'm useless, but if one of you got involved and beat me… I don't think I could handle that. Plus Darry would skin me if he found out."

"You ain't useless, Soda," Pony said quietly. "Who comforts me when I have nightmares? Who listens to all my problems? Who gets me free books? You're the best brother I could ever ask for, and I don't like hearing you say that about yourself."

"Thanks, Pone," Soda whispered. He was going to say more, but someone knocked on his window. Soda opened the door and stepped out.

"Tim Shepard's against one of them Brumley boys first," said a Soc boy who looked to be no older than thirteen. Pony watched, amazed at the way neither the boy nor Soda seemed to be bothered by social equity divisions here. "Then it's you against Paul Holden. You know him?"

"Yeah," said Soda. "He's got that new red Mustang, right?"

The kid nodded. "Winner gets to go through; loser doesn't come back unless it's for the beer."

"I know," said Soda.

The kid nodded and scampered off. "Soda," Pony said quietly, "you're against Paul Holden?"

"Yes." Sodapop sat back in the truck. "It doesn't make a difference, Pony," he added as he saw the look on his brother's face. "Socs ain't Socs and greasers ain't greasers in this competition. Anyone starts anything and Mr Brumley'll kick them out, and they won't be back. It's the biggest drag competition in the whole of Tulsa, so no one's ever been dumb enough."

"I wasn't thinking of that," said Pony. "I was thinking… how the hell do you beat that guy? His car's so powerful, and then there's our truck…" He didn't need to paint the picture.

Soda laughed quietly. "I'm good at it, Pony," he said simply. "You know, for the finals last year, your Soc friend Randy lent me his Mustang."

"You're _joking_."

"No! He didn't sign up this year, though. I wonder why…"

"If you were so adamant on not telling anyone anything," Pony said, changing the topic slightly, "why'd you tell me now?"

"Shoot, Pony," said Soda, laughing. "I don't think I have anything to worry about even if you do decide to sign up!"

Ponyboy glared at him. He was so caught up with their conversation that he jumped slightly at a knock on his own window. He opened the door.

"Our guys are pretty angry about Randy," said a Soc in a madras shirt. "Rumble's on. Midnight on Saturday in the parking lot in front of the library. Shepard's lot's already going."

"On your turf?" Pony asked with surprise. As far as he could remember, the Socs had always avoided holding a rumble on their territory. They seemed to think getting greaser blood on their land would make it dirty.

"Yeah," said the Soc. He fixed the two brothers with a glare. "And you better show; your names are mud and we don't need an excuse to think you lot are cowards!" He walked away, back towards his drunk friends.

Soda muttered something uncomplimentary, but Pony's mind was working fast. He didn't want another rumble. They had not had one since the night Johnny and Dally had died, and he was not anxious to bring back all the memories.

X X X X

**A/N**: Couldn't completely separate Soda and cars, could I?

You'll never guess what I have planned for the rumble… Go ahead! Try! You won't get it!

Reviews are very beyond appreciated. Even if you've never left one before, just drop a quick one that says what you think! They make all the difference!


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N**: Thank you so much to those who reviewed! Last chapter didn't really come out right, so they were very much appreciated.

X X X X

Soda pulled up next to Paul's brand new Mustang and watched coolly as Paul ordered all his passengers out to lighten the load. Pony offered to climb out and watch from a further – and safer – distance, but Soda refused. "I came second overall last year, and it sure wasn't to this creep," he explained.

Pony looked over to Paul's car and couldn't help but feel that Sodapop was placing a little too much faith in his abilities. No matter how good of a driver Soda was, it wouldn't change the fact that that was one powerful car next to them. It was the new model Mustang – Pony was dead certain Soda had never tried anything against that car before. "Soda, I think –"

"Don't sweat it, Ponyboy," Soda said, revving the car in both challenge and to answer the revs from Paul. "I've driven against him countless times. He always slows down to change gears."

"And you _don't_?"

"No." Pony could hardly believe his ears. Soda was bragging like Two-Bit: without merit and without abandon. Pony was quite sure _anyone _had to slow to change gears.

In front of the two cars, a very old man was moving out onto the road. Pony recognized it as being Mr Brumley, Sodapop's boss, and had to wonder as to how and why he was here. It was common knowledge the guy ran the Black Cat from the comfort of his own home, his arthritis making it very difficult for him to leave the house. Pony knew he also suffered from emphysema and couldn't imagine how he was out in this cold night without his lungs failing; Soda was far better off and even inside the car, without the wind, Pony knew he was not feeling perfect.

Mr Brumley was wearing so many clothes one could barely see his stooped frame that was supported by a walking stick tapping along the road under his feet. His wizened old face was frowning in concentration as he shuffled along, coming to a stop in the middle of the two cars.

"Shouldn't somebody else be doing that?" Pony muttered, slightly concerned for the old man's health.

"Yes," said Soda quietly, "but he won't let them. He wants to die doing what he loves: organizing illegal street drags. Apparently he's been doing it since he was in high school; turns out half the teachers at your school have been customers of his, so to speak." Soda put his foot on the brake pedal and removed the handbrake. "Don't talk to me anymore, okay Pone; I gotta concentrate."

Mr Brumley raised a wrinkled hand and the revving of the engines stopped. Pony saw both Paul and Soda's faces turn serious as they awaited the call to begin.

The hand fell and so did Soda's foot upon the gas pedal. His reactions were fast – faster than Paul's – but man, did that Mustang make a difference! Paul was speeding up faster than the brothers, they were falling behind –

Paul slowed suddenly and Soda pulled ahead. It was only then that Pony realized he was changing gears without slowing an inch. "How're you doing that?" he cried. His brother gave a small smile but did not answer.

As Soda pulled further ahead, he pulled their car in front of Paul's, blocking him. Pony turned and had to laugh at the look of dismay upon the other's face. Soda was matching every attempt made by Paul to pull ahead again by moving to his intended position. Pony was rather impressed by Soda's ability to perceive everything occurring around him; _he _certainly had not been able to do that…

Soda slowed the car after the two empty Pepsi bottles on the side of he road that indicated an end to the race. Soda had won by the entire length of their truck and then some. There was no denying he had talent. "Wow," Pony muttered. "I… I can see why you don't want me to tell Darry."

Soda gave a short laugh and stretched in his seat. "Well, I'm through to the finals," he muttered.

"Can I come to those?" Pony asked excitedly.

Soda laughed again. "God, I love you, Pone. Sure you can come." He was beginning to wonder why he hadn't shown Pony his secret talent earlier. He should have been more trusting to the fact that Pony would neither tell another soul nor even attempt to take part, should Soda ask him not to. But then again, he knew himself, and he knew that if Pony had had the talents to drive better than he did, Soda would not have the guts to ask him to stop.

X X X X

"How'd the driving lesson go?" asked Steve. He was now sitting on the couch, doing the crossword in the paper. Darry was nowhere to be found – Pony assumed he had gone to bed. He had picked up an extra shift on his second job for the next day in light of the fact that he had no work in the roofing business at that moment, and he wanted his sleep.

"Great!" said Pony. "If we keep going this rate, I'll be able to drive like Darry can by the time I'm forty."

Steve looked slightly confused. "He's terrible," clarified Soda. He did not tell Steve where they had really been all this time; Steve did not know about the illegal drags running outside of town. Soda knew that if Steve put his mind to it, he could very well be better than him, and though he knew it was selfish, he didn't think he could handle it.

"I coulda told you that," muttered Steve under his breath.

"What?" Soda asked.

"Nothin'…"

Pony frowned slightly but let it slide. Steve had been nasty enough often enough; he didn't think it was worth raising now. "Rumble's on Saturday," he said.

Steve threw the newspaper on the coffee table, sending an empty glass rolling off the side where it landed with a thud. "Great!" he said enthusiastically. "Where?"

"Parking lot behind that library on Soc turf," said Pony. "Midnight. Apparently Tim Shepard's going, but if you get anyone that comes by the DX tomorrow… if it's on Soc grounds they're probably going to have a lot." Steve was nodding slowly.

Soda swore suddenly. "It's past midnight, Pony, we better get to bed," he said. "Night, Steve."

"Night."

The two brothers changed into their pajamas and climbed into bed. As they lay there in the darkness, Pony turned to Soda and spoke suddenly. "Soda?"

"Yeah, Pone?"

"Am I the only one having bad feelings about this rumble?"

"Yeah, Pone, you are," said Soda sleepily. "You're just nervous because it's on Soc grounds. Just as many greasers'll turn up to this one as when it's on our land; why worry about there being too many Socs?"

"That ain't just it, though, is it?" Pony said quietly, but Soda didn't hear him. He was already asleep.

X X X X

**A/N**: Any theories? Review please! I ask that every time, but they make all the difference! And I'm doing this for free here!


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N**: Thank you so much to reviewers! You guys are the absolute greatest! Thank you to you lurkers, too! I'd love for your opinions!

X X X X

The week passed with anticipation by the gang and growing fear by Pony about the rumble. He had noticed the continued absence of Randy from school as well as the high amount of glares he received in the corridors, and Soda had reported an increase in the number of Socs who stopped by the Black Cat to gloat, but none had been those who had beaten him, and nobody, be they greaser or Soc, tried anything. That, at least, Pony was grateful for. He didn't trust the Socs not to try anything regardless of whether or not they had a rumble coming up, and since he still didn't know who smashed up Randy's house, there were certain greasers he did not trust either.

He didn't understand why the violence had to continue. As he sat eating a last snack of chocolate cake with Pepsi at eleven on Saturday night, he listened to Darry hum softly in the shower, and wondered why they should have to defend their gang like lions defend their prides. Why couldn't they just get along?

There was nothing on the television or radio for once; Darry would not let them disturb the neighbours at this time of night. Steve and Two-Bit were comparing each other's muscles in the mirror. It had been Soda's night to wash the dishes, and since he had left it to last-minute, he was doing them now. Soda's job on rumble nights was usually to patch them up when they came home, always bruised and battered, and usually grinning with the memory of their victory. Pony expected them to be out at least an hour, and he knew Soda would wait up until they got back, no matter how late that should be.

Darry came out of the shower dressed in his old jeans with holes in the knees and a white shirt. He shrugged into his jacket, but Pony knew it would be off again by the time they left. "Can you finish up quickly, Pone?" Darry asked, sitting opposite his youngest brother at the table.

"Calm down, Darry," called Steve from the hallway mirror. "We have plenty of time."

"I want to talk to you guys before we go," said Darry. Steve and Two-Bit heard the serious tone of his voice and moved over to lean against the doorframe to the kitchen. "This may sound a bit harsh, but this'll be our first rumble without Johnny and Dally there."

His words were greeted with silence. Soda dropped the saucepan he was scrubbing in the sink and turned to face Darry with the rest of them, listening to his words that were painful but accurate. "We're used to fighting a certain way, you know? Pony, you used to fight alongside Johnny. Well, now he won't be there. I know Dally used to come help you two out if you ever did get in a bit of a spot – he did that with each of us – but he ain't here either. We're going to have to be more careful than ever."

"Glory, Darry," Two-Bit said quietly, "you'd think the Socs had actually scared you."

He said it jokingly, but Darry took it to heart. "Yeah, well, they have," he said. "They've shown once they'll hurt a brother of mine with no problems from their conscience. Who's to say they won't hurt Pony?"

Pony said nothing as he looked downwards. What Darry said was true – in fact, the Socs were _more _likely to hurt him than Soda. The conversation overheard by Pony and Two-Bit had pretty much confirmed that the only Socs who were out to get Soda would not be at the rumble, but the rest of them were baying for Pony's blood.

"Anyway," continued Darry, "Pony, I want you to stick with me, okay? Promise you won't go anywhere. That's the condition of your going – you _stick with me_, you hear?"

"Yeah, Darry," said Pony. "Yeah, I will." He tried to deny it, but the back of his mind whispered the truth. Pony was glad to have Darry worried about him. He knew from experience that was how Darry showed he cared.

"Anyway, we'd better go," said Darry. "I want to leave early. Took Pony down to Soc territory last weekend; the place is an absolute rabbit warren. Nobody planned the streets out properly… See you, little buddy."

Pony, Darry, Steve and Two-Bit ran out the door, the somber mood caused by Darry's speech gone as the anticipation of a rumble set in. Two-Bit had already opened his first beer and was sculling it down quicker than even his reputation said. "You get beer in my car and you won't need the Socs to give you a new face," Darry warned, but Two-Bit just grinned happily.

Soda waved goodbye as the beat-up truck drove out of the driveway and began to make its way down the road, Steve and Two-Bit each shouting at the top of their lungs, Pony laughing, and Darry screaming for them to knock it off. All this was heard by the middle Curtis as he watched his brothers and friends drive off to defend their own. It _was _rather territorial, now he came to think about it, like a cat marking the entire town as his personal spot.

Soda walked back inside and shut the flimsy screen door behind him. He didn't care what Darry had said; he knew everyone in their little group was an excellent man in a rumble. Two less would not mean their defeat.

Would it?

X X X X

**A/N**: It's a little short, but it was either this or a chapter the length of my sleeping bag (yes! Strange comparisons!)

I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed! It may not seem like much, but it makes all the difference in the world! Any theories would be great too. I love theories.

Next chapter: Rumble!


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N**: I am an absolute idiot. I have just enabled anonymous reviews to my account, but I swear I didn't know they were disabled in the first place! I'm sorry for any inconvenience!

Also, a small note saying that I tried to update last chappy earlier, but FF was updating hardware or something and wouldn't allow logins. So I got up at 5:30 in the morning (an hour earlier than usual) to update. Please be proud ;)

Also, I just noticed when I was typing up this chapter, Soda's boss (Mr Brumley) has nothing to do with the Brumley gang. That was just a coincidence when I named that character!

And finally, thank you so much to all still sticking with this story and especially to those who left reviews. You guys are seriously the greatest!

X X X X

It was lucky they left early, because the gang arrived at the parking lot behind the library right on time. Never one for even the possibility of being late to a rumble, Tim Shepard and his group of delinquents was already there. The boys from Brumley were there too, as well as the River Kings. Despite the smaller numbers of their own group, Pony felt there were more greasers here than at any other rumble he could remember being present in. Though Soda meant nothing to most of the people present, it was a testament to the deep bond all the greasers felt that all would show up to teach the Socs not to cross them too far. It also taught the Socs better than to think that because they were hosting the rumble, less greasers would turn up.

Two-Bit was tipsy by now, and they were all slightly high from the adrenaline. The Socs were not yet present, so nobody could judge the odds for the fight, but Pony counted fifty six greasers there, give or take a couple for a possible miscount. Even though he was worried there would be more Socs than normal because of the location, he thought that would be a sufficient number to take on anything they could throw at them. His nerves abated slightly.

Pony heard voices not belonging to the greasers come slowly closer. Socs had arrived. They came around from behind the dark hunk that was the library, joining the greasers in the parking lot, yet still separated by a long, wide strip of asphalt that marked no-man's land. It just showed the division they had in the real world.

The entire scene was lit only by the lights of two trucks that had been left on for that very purpose, the moon and the stars. But even in this dim light, Pony could see that the number of Socs who had shown up was dramatically smaller than the fifty or so he had been expecting. In fact, he would hazard a guess at around thirty. He frowned. Something was wrong.

True to his promise, he was still standing next to Darry. He looked up at his tall older brother, eyes questioning. Darry did not look back at him, just eyed the Socs warily, his own face marred with confusion.

Tim Shepard broke the silence. That guy must have been one hell of a poker player, Pony decided, because his face showed neither jubilation at the seemingly easy fight ahead nor confusion and fear for the fact that there should have been more Socs. It was kept utterly blank.

"You still waiting on a few or are you ready to rumble?" he asked casually.

There were a few Socs who looked as uneasy as Pony felt, though it was for a different reason. It was a few moments before anyone moved, and when one stepped to the front, cigarette between his lips, Pony recognized Paul Holden, and a sudden sadness filled him. It had been less than a week ago that Paul had been competing against Soda in a friendly drag race, with fights kept carefully in check by the curator of said competition. It had been longer ago that Paul and Darry had been over to each other's houses, bought each other ice creams, unconcerned with the vast difference in wealth and fortune between them.

"We're ready," said Paul coolly, "but don't think you've got it easy. Any man of ours is worth three of your trash."

Tim remained unfazed. "It wasn't a man of ours that attacked one of yours three to one, with the knowledge that he was sick."

_Four to one_, Pony's mind whispered. _It was four to one_.

"Maybe you should take better care of your property," drawled Paul, and Pony felt Darry stiffen beside him. "I hear that car of yours is pretty banged up."

"Then let's settle this," muttered Darry, but loud enough for the semi silent parking lot to hear him. He strode forward a few steps, picked a random Soc that was roughly his height, and punched him squarely in the jaw.

The rumble commenced.

Pony ran up to join Darry, picking a Soc to his brother's right and grabbing his arm, twisting it while landing a punch to his stomach with his other hand. The guy was bigger than he was, probably around Soda's age, but Pony was strong for his build, and besides, it wasn't like he could pick a more even fight.

The Soc yelled and swung his other fist around, aiming for Pony's face. Pony ducked, and when he did, he saw Darry hit the kid across the shoulder. It was a poorly aimed punch, but it helped nonetheless, and Pony continued his duck-then-hit treatment of the Soc.

He felt someone grab him around the middle, and suddenly his feet had left the asphalt. His front, however, became quite accustomed with the bitumen as he was slammed down again. He felt the air rush from his body and it took a moment for him to get his breath back, but once he did, he was right back on his feet.

He looked around for Darry and saw him standing in a small circle of Socs, each who were trying to be the one to bring Darry down. He tended to get targeted in fights by several people at a time, and after some listening to bragging in his science classroom, Pony discovered why. There was some sort of competition amongst the Socs: bring Darrel Curtis to the ground during a fight and one would be hailed as a hero. Pony found it all rather amusing most of the time, but not now. The greasers' numbers were almost double that of the Socs – why was nobody stopping to help? Because they pursued their own agenda, that was why.

Pony tackled the Soc standing directly behind Darry around the legs and brought him crashing into the side of another, causing both of them to lose balance and topple instantly. He grabbed the nearest grounded Soc by the hair and punched him repeatedly across the face – not the damaging, strong punches Darry made, but they sure seemed to hurt, judging by the moans.

The second Soc got to his knees and, before Pony could see his position and do anything to stop it, he landed one straight to his nose. Pony reeled back, clutching his nose and feeling the blood rush onto his hand. He didn't _think _it was broken…

"Don't you do that, you worthless…" He heard a string of swearwords in a familiar voice and looked up. It was Steve who had grabbed the culprit for Pony's now freely bleeding nose and was kicking him repeatedly even as he lay on the ground groaning. Pony almost couldn't believe what he was seeing. Steve hated him. Steve thought he was a useless tag-along. And yet here Steve was, saving Pony from anything worse than a bleeding nose.

Out of the corner of his eye, Pony saw another Soc run up, kick Steve Randle right in the gut, and half drag, half carry his friend away. As Pony held his shirt up to his nose, he eyed their opposition. They were leaving, and some of the greasers were already screaming and yelling their victory after them.

Darry ran up, spitting blood off to the side from a shallow mouth wound and crouching before Pony. The youngest Curtis supposed he probably looked pretty banged up with all the blood streaming from his nose. There was also some coming from a cut to his arm, and as the adrenaline wore off, he felt the bruises coming. It seemed he was worse off than he originally had thought.

"Are you okay, Pony?" Darry half-yelled.

"Shut up, Darry," Pony muttered. "I'm fine. Don't let Tim hear you…" His voice trailed off, but Darry caught his meaning.

"D'you think I would embarrass you?" he asked more quietly this time. "But really, are you all right? I get the feeling some of them were looking to get you…"

"I got the same with you," said Pony. "I'm fine. Really. I… I don't think it's broken…"

Darry blanched slightly.

"It ain't, it ain't broken," said Pony hastily. "I didn't hear anything snap. Hurts like hell, though."

"We'll take a look at you when you get home," said Darry. "C'mon, I don't want to hang round here any longer than necessary."

Next to us, Steve had gotten to his feet and was surveying the area almost critically. Pony could see no sign of Two-Bit. "Is Two-Bit okay?" he asked.

"I saw him earlier," said Darry. "He's either drunk, has a concussion, or both. I want to get him home almost as much as I want you home; he'll hurt himself if he tries to go alone."

"I'll go get him," said Steve. He walked off, and Pony noticed he was slightly more bent over than normal. He was hurt, that much was obvious. Pony didn't envy Soda his job of getting him to admit it.

Darry drove them home in silence, a silence that was broken by Two-Bit's loud, off key singing. "If I didn't have a concussion before, I sure as hell have one now," Steve muttered as Two-Bit started his rather crude adaptation of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star".

The windows were wound down to let the heat left over from the rumble dissipate, and the cool, albeit slightly polluted air circulated through the interior of the truck. Even with his drunken mind, Two-Bit was the first to notice the sudden change.

"Pfft – Glory that stinks!" he cried. "What is that?"

It was not quite as bad as Two-Bit said, but it was certainly there; the smell of old wood barbecues at camping grounds the brothers used to go to back when they were kids, the smell of songs in the back yard in the summer. But this time, the smell of fire could mean nothing good. Darry turned the truck into their road with a feeling of trepidation, but that trepidation was not preparation enough for the sudden horror that rose up in him as he saw the source of the smell.

X X X X

Soda finished the last of the dishes. It always took him longer to do than when it was one of his brothers' turns, mainly because by the time Soda got around to doing them, the food had already caked on. It wasn't his fault he left them to last minute; he usually just forgot.

He let the water drain from the sink and looked up at the clock above the doorway. Almost half past twelve. He knew the gang would not be back for a while yet and he wondered briefly what to do. He thought of taking the opportunity to borrow Pony's chemistry book without his knowledge, but that idea fled almost as soon as it had arrived. There was no point now Dr Falkens had refused to help him. Even though his reasoning had been sound, it still made Soda slightly upset that he had been rejected.

Before he could think of anything else with which to occupy himself, he heard a slight creaking beside the house. Frowning slightly, he moved to the kitchen window and looked out onto the old iron gate beside the house. It appeared to be unmoved.

Casting his worries aside as simply him being unused to an empty house, he moved into the living room and began a game of solitaire. Neither Pony nor Darry saw the merit in such a pursuit, but Soda liked to see how fast he could do it. He used an old watch of Darry's to time himself with and he knew he was getting better.

"I think someone's home."

Soda's head snapped up as he heard the voice and the cards went flying. The voice had definitely come from the back yard, and the speaker had not even bothered to lower it. Soda knew every greaser in Tulsa knew their front door was always open, and he also knew every greaser in Tulsa was probably at the rumble right now. Could it be a thief? But no, a thief would have kept quiet.

Soda stood up and, flashlight in one hand and switch in the other, began to slowly move towards the back of the house. He was nervous, no denying it, but he figured whoever it was would probably run off if he tried a direct approach. Anyone who did not know the door was open couldn't know he had asthma. He could hide it long enough to scare them away.

"Do it now! Quick!"

There that voice was again. Soda heard a tiny couple of clicks, then heard footsteps running round the side. He walked quickly back through the house and came out the front door quickly enough to see two Socs jump into their car and drive off, not fast enough for Soda to even shout something at them.

What the hell had that been about?

Rolling his eyes at the sheer idiocy of some rich folk, he shoved the switch back into his pocket and walked back inside, throwing the flashlight onto the couch and beginning to collect his cards. He had not even gotten his pile straightened when he heard another car roar up, and headlights flooded the living room as it was parked poorly out front.

Soda knew cars, and he knew this was not Darry's. He had only heard that particular engine sound in a Mustang. Assuming the Socs from before were back, he grabbed his switch from his pocket and, muttering a few choice words, moved out onto the front porch once more.

"You just get right back in that car and keep on driving, Socie," he called mockingly, waving his blade around for dramatic effect.

Only one Soc emerged from the car, and it was not who Soda was expecting to see. His eyes only spared Soda a glance as they focused on the house behind him.

"Turn around, Sodapop," Randy said.

Soda frowned in confusion, but he saw neither heater nor backup anywhere near Randy and he did as he was told. His eyes widened with horror.

The back of his house was already ablaze. How he could have missed it, he had no idea; he supposed it was because of the closed door separating the living room and the kitchen from the rest of the house. For some reason, his shocked mind registered only one thing. _Darry is going to kill me_.

He thought suddenly of the box in Darry's room; that ultra-important box containing all their documents, from the brothers' birth certificates to their parents' death certificates to Darry's diploma to Soda's prescriptions. He couldn't lose that. He had to get it, no matter what.

He dashed back into the house. He heard Randy yell his name, but paid it no heed; he had to get to that box. He ran to the door that divided the short corridor to the bedrooms from the living room and yanked it open. He realized, too late, that the clicks he heard must have been from one powerful lighter.

A huge plume of smoke rushed out to greet him, but the fire had not yet reached this door. It was there, though; Soda could see the bright flames slowly devouring the corridor. He thanked God briefly that Darry's room was not the last; it was set middle, between Soda and Pony's room and the bathroom.

He rushed forward. He could feel his lungs seizing up and knew he had to do this quickly, but he was already coughing violently. He did not know how long he could last.

Ignoring the pressing pain in his lungs as well as their violent convulsions, he threw open Darry's door and shut it quickly behind him. The fire had not reached this room yet, and he sure was not going to let it.

He gasped for air that was not coming as he threw open Darry's closet door. _Hm_, whispered his mind, _Darry ain't as clean as he pretends to be_. A large pile of clothes were simply thrown in the bottom of the closet. Soda dropped to his knees and, with hands that felt suddenly of lead, began to throw clothes out behind him. He knew the box would be at the bottom of that closet.

He saw a glimmer of silver in the dark room and grabbed at it. He really was not getting any oxygen now. The physical stress on his lungs caused by the smoke coupled with the mental stress of knowing his house was burning down around him was proving to be too much, and he could feel the horrible pain rising abruptly at the same time as severe breathlessness took hold. The combination left him with virtually no air at all, but, fighting the impending darkness in the sides of his vision, he looked down and saw that he had what he had come for. He had the box. Now he just had to get out of here alive.

He tried to stand and failed, crashing back to the ground as he clutched the box protectively against himself. He refused to let the darkness take him entirely. He knew that would be nothing short of a death sentence. He forced, with an almighty effort, his lungs to take in just one more breath, but it was not enough. He couldn't believe it. He was going to die here, _here_, in the room where there was no fire.

He felt arms suddenly go around him and pull him up, and he was rushed out the door. He tried to cry out in protest as he felt heat surround him suddenly, hitting him full on like those Socs who had jumped him, but it came out as more of a strangled choking noise. It was getting, if possible, harder to breathe, but he still had the box in his hands. Darry would be proud. Was that Darry holding him now? No, it couldn't be; Darry was at the rumble. Soda's confused mind wouldn't piece together the facts properly, and it was frustrating him. All he knew was that he needed the box, he had the box, and it was too hot.

He felt sudden coolness replace the heat, and with it, a slight increase in his consciousness. He was outside; Randy had carried him, and he couldn't breathe. That last part was his most pressing concern. He had to tell Randy. Randy would help him… but he could not form the words. He was suffocating… he needed Darry, Pony, Steve, Two-Bit, _anyone_…

The last thought to reach him was the image of his brother's truck rounding the corner. Then he could not fight it anymore, and he sunk into the welcoming darkness.

X X X X

**A/N**: I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Should I invest in a bomb shelter, perhaps?

Some of you guessed close, but not right on the money! Ah well, now you know.

So yes, I now accept anonymous reviews, and since that was most definitely the longest and most intense chapter yet, I'd really appreciate some. Tell me any theories you may have, and who here loves Randy? He's so the best.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N**: Thank you so much to all who are still reading this, and especially to those that reviewed! The end of the cliffhanger I left you on is nigh!

X X X X

Darry pulled the car over on the side of the road, not caring that he hit the curb. All of them, even Two-Bit, rushed out to stare at the scene in front of them.

The back of the house was on fire, hot red tendrils licking the wood, brick and everything inside without abandon. Several neighbours had taken hoses and were attempting to put out the blaze, and in the distance, sirens could be heard approaching. But Darry and Pony only had eyes for one thing.

Soda was on the ground, eyes shut. A Soc stood above him, one hand resting on his chest, checking if he was breathing. Pony recognized the Soc as Randy, but all Darry saw was one who had burned down their house and was only having regrets that somebody was inside.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" he roared, snatching Soda up from the ground and holding him against him in a sitting position.

"Darry, no!" cried Pony, rushing over to stand between the two in case things escalated. "Randy's a friend!"

Pony saw Randy look at him sharply as he said this last comment, but ignored it. He just did anything he could to prevent a fight.

Randy sighed and coughed slightly; the smoke had done no good for him either. "I was asked to join this _mission_" – he spat the word like a curse – "to destroy the place any greaser goes when their own place gets too nasty. Destroy their only backup plan in life; that's what they said. I refused, but when they left I followed them. Please trust me; they didn't know anyone was going to be in the house tonight!"

Darry glared at him still, but he had more important things to deal with. "Pony, do we have any other inhalers anywhere besides the house?"

Pony shook his head numbly. To his knowledge, they only had one.

Behind him, Steve took something from his pocket and wordlessly passed it to Darry. Darry looked up at him in surprise, but was already uncapping the inhaler and holding it up to his brother's mouth. "Where did you get this, Steve?"

"I figured since me and Soda go places so much, it's best to be prepared," said Steve tonelessly. He seemed to be slightly in shock.

"Is he breathing?" Pony asked, worry tingeing his voice.

"Yeah, Pone, he's still breathing," said Darry. As though proving Darry's words, Soda let out a huge, choking gasp. With his hand still on his little brother's chest to check the rise and fall from his breathing, Darry could feel Soda's heart speed up as panic for his current situation set in. He gave him another couple of puffs from the inhaler in the hope that now he was conscious, he might be able to hold more of the medicine in.

"One of the neighbours called 911," informed Randy. He was still on the ground in front of the three brothers. "They're sending the whole crew around: a fire truck, an ambulance and the police."

Darry glared at him. "If you came home to find your place burning down and your brother dying, would _you _trust the only other guy around?" he snapped.

Soda's heart thumped ever harder and his troubled breathing grew even more laboured. "Don't scare him, Darry!" Pony cried.

"Oh, God, Soda, I'm sorry." Pony suddenly saw tears spring to his older brother's eyes. He had only ever seen Darry cry three times before; the most recently when he returned from Windrixville, but the other two were times like this, when they thought they were going to lose Soda. Both of those times they had had Mom and Dad. Now, they were alone.

Darry was trying to calm Soda down with words, but even through the soot and ash covering his brother's face, Pony could see it take on a new shade of grey. He was still using Darry to lean on. "It's not working, is it, Darry?" Pony said, almost in despair. Vaguely his brain registered the arrival of the fire crew, but where the hell was that ambulance?

"Shut up, Pony, okay, shut it!" Darry cried. Pony winced. He knew it was just worry and fear making him talk like that, so why did Darry's words have to hurt so much? "Soda – Soda, keep your eyes open, okay, honey? Come on, stay awake for me…" It was only from Darry's almost whispered words that Pony realized Soda was once again on the verge of passing out.

Two-Bit suddenly crashed to the ground between Pony and Darry and Soda. The shock of the fire had sobered him up some, but he was still slightly drunk. It was only that, Pony would realize later, that kept Two-Bit the only sane one in a gang bound by hysteria. "You wanna hear something funny, Soda?" he said. "What's a donkey without any stripes?" Two-Bit waited politely for an answer, an answer which he never obtained. He didn't mind. "The answer's a donkey!"

He roared with laughter. The joke was a stupid one, one that only a tipsy Two-Bit could ever think of, and one that the gang mostly did not find very funny. But it was perfect for keeping Soda's attention occupied, and did not make the asthma worse by making him laugh. The tiny smile he granted was worth everything and more.

It was Two-Bit that kept Soda as calm as was possible in the next few minutes until the ambulance arrived. Darry could have cried with relief when it did. He knew that an asthma attack as severe as what Soda had just suffered through could well have taken his life.

The paramedics from the ambulance immediately took Soda from Darry, one shoving an oxygen mask onto his face. Darry answered all their questions about him, almost wishing they would just go so Soda could get better faster. He noticed Pony's face, white against the stark contrast of the now-dried blood from his nose, and finally stood from the grass of his front lawn. "Go with him, Pony," Darry said. "I'll follow behind."

"You sure?" Pony asked. "I don't mind if –"

"Ponyboy," Darry interrupted, "you know as well as I do that I've done all the calming I can for tonight… didn't do a great job of it either. Go; he'll like it if you do."

Pony nodded numbly and turned to climb into the ambulance. One of the two paramedics there directed him to a bench to sit on.

"And Pony?"

Pony looked back to Darry. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." Pony blinked. Darry never apologized… he never had. It just wasn't his way.

And yet there he was, fists jammed in pockets the way Pony had only ever seen twice before, looking just a little lost.

He focused back on his other brother as the ambulance pulled away from the burning house.

Darry turned back to face his home. It was the home of any and every greaser, the place they could all count on when all else turned to smoke. Now it was turning to smoke itself, and quite literally. The fire brigade had managed to stop the front parts from burning, and was slowly but surely quenching the fire from the back. But the damage was done. Darry had no idea where he was going to house his family until repairs were made, or even if they were going to be able to afford repairs.

Sighing, he looked back at the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw, sitting innocently on the ground next to Randy, a silver box. That, at least, Soda had managed to save. But at what cost? Not even looking at Randy, he picked the box up from the ground and gestured with his head at Steve and Two-Bit. They were going to the one place he never wanted to set foot in again, the one place either of his brothers kept on dragging him to. He was beginning to develop a passionate hate for that hospital.

X X X X

Done! That was quite difficult, at times felt rather… strange. My house has never burnt down, thank God. I live in constant fear of that happening…

Please review! I want to hear your thoughts!


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N**: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! You're all so awesome 

X X X X

Darry forced himself to keep from grinding his teeth in frustration. He, Steve and Two-Bit had been here for six hours now – long enough for Two-Bit to sober up completely – and they still had seen neither Soda nor Ponyboy. At first Darry had been willing to wait, thinking they were simply getting through the emergency room, but now he was having second thoughts. Surely it would not take this long…

And through it all, nobody had told him if Soda was all right. It was certainly not the first time Soda had been hospitalized, and those other times he had not been through a fire. He could have all sorts of injuries, but nobody was telling his legal guardian! Even when Johnny was sent through with a broken back it had not taken this much time and effort to find out about his condition. Though he knew there were plenty of explanations, Darry could not help but think that something must be seriously wrong.

And still, he had not seen hide or hair of Ponyboy.

"This is ridiculous," muttered Steve beside him. Darry found himself agreeing.

"I think I'm going to go check again," said Darry, standing and moving towards the nurse's desk he was becoming quite familiar with by now.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he even got that chance, the nurse was talking. "Darrel Curtis? No, you _can't _see your brother yet; we would _call_ you if he was ready."

Darry felt anger and frustration rising rapidly to the surface. "Why not? Why can't you just tell me how he is?"

The nurse gave him one of those looks, the looks he received almost daily from elderly Soc ladies on the side of the road as he went into town, the look that spoke volumes about her opinion of people on a lower income or education base than herself. "Because he has not been cleared to have visitors."

Darry glared at her. "My other brother's in there," he growled. "Soda ain't contagious; why can't I see him?"

"You do, however, have someone wishing to meet you in one of the conference rooms. A couple of police officers… I believe they said something about a fire?"

Darry swore and the prissy nurse screwed up her nose in distaste. "Fine… fine, where is it?"

The nurse gave him directions and Darry left Steve and Two-Bit in the emergency room to go and meet the police officers. He assumed they had simply come to tell him the fire had been lit deliberately; that they were doing all they could to discover who the arsonists were, and to ask him if he wished to press charges. He couldn't have been more wrong.

He opened the door to the conference room. Two officers stood there. They had been conversing with each other, but it was cut off as Darry entered. "Have a seat, Mr Curtis." Darry did as was instructed. "Okay, I'll get straight to the point. We were sent in to find the circumstances surrounding your house catching fire, but something else caught our attention. Do you want to know what?"

He was standing opposite Darry, his hands gripping the end of a chair, staring at the eldest Curtis with a look that made Darry think he was trying to read him. If Darry didn't know better, he could have sworn that _he _was the one in trouble. "What?" he asked, feeling the answer was expected of him.

"We came to the hospital to interview your brother Sodapop and the other boy who had been in the fire. Then we discover something rather disturbing. Your youngest brother Ponyboy is covered in blood and bruises."

Darry swallowed. He did not like where this was going.

"Your other brother, the doctors tell me, has a healing broken rib. He, too, has plenty of cuts and bruises, but since he has been through a fire, we are willing to put it down to that. But that broken rib is over a week old."

Silence hung in the room for a moment until Darry broke it. "What are you implying?" he asked, almost coldly.

"The evidence all points to abuse," said the second police officer, standing against a wall.

Darry did not allow his expression to change, but inside he had become a nervous wreck. If they took his brothers… well, he didn't know what he would do. "Look… I love my brothers. They're all I have left; how can you even think I would hurt either of them?"

"Your financial state, even before your house caught fire, was quite desperate," the first officer said. "That is a leading cause of stress, and you and I both know that plenty of men your age enjoy taking their stress out on others who may be smaller and weaker than them."

Well, that was a generalization if ever Darry heard one.

"You look to be quite a strong person," the officer continued. "I am just hoping you don't use those muscles for anything more than to fix roofs."

Darry resisted the urge to glare at him. He knew that would only make things worse. "Have you spoken to my brothers?"

"We've spoken to Ponyboy. Sodapop is in no shape to hold a conversation." Darry blanched. "So you swear you have never raised a hand against either one of your brothers?"

_Only once_. "No, never."

The officer nodded. "Okay, then." Darry could tell he did not believe him. "Well, that's all we wanted to talk about. You can go and see Sodapop now. He's on the fourth floor, room 317."

Darry stood immediately. He now knew why the stupid hospital wouldn't tell him where Soda was. The police had warned them to keep it quiet.

X X X X

Soda winced in his sleep, unconsciously gripping Pony's hand tighter. Pony almost winced in sympathy. Soda had once described to him what he felt if he tried to inhale or exhale too far, and how that "too far" could range from a deep yawn on a good day to barely room to breathe on a bad day. Pony knew this was a little further than a "bad day".

He had said it felt like a knife about the size of the big ones they used to chop vegetables and the like was cutting into him from the inside, sometimes in just one place, sometimes in many. Pony's money was on it being "many" at the moment.

They had switched him from the oxygen mask to a tube running to his nose as soon as they had reached the hospital, and they had had him breathe from a nebulizer for a few minutes, a process which was being repeated every four hours. Aside from the asthma and smoke inhalation, he was being treated for a number of small burns and bruises, though none were cause for concern. Pony remembered the fire in Windrixville, remembered how frightening it had been. Nobody should have to go through that. Not himself, not Soda, and not Johnny.

Johnny. Pony's best friend had died in a fire. This other fire, this fire that had been lit _deliberately_, had almost taken his brother, his confidant, his other best friend. Randy had said the arsonists hadn't known anybody else would be at the house, but that did not absolve them, not at all. What if the fire had caught to the other houses? People still lived in _them_. What if there had been very young children inside? There was no excuse.

Randy had come by earlier, had snuck out of his room to see how Soda was doing. He had said that a part of the reason the fire had been lit was revenge for what had happened to his own house; that had been why he was asked to join. Pony knew that neither he nor either of his brothers was to blame for the demolition of Randy's house. Those Socs had simply assumed.

Pony turned abruptly as the door behind him opened to reveal Darry. Pony suddenly recalled the two police officers that had come by earlier, called by the hospital when they discovered Pony covered in blood and Soda with a broken rib. Pony had washed that blood off pretty damn fast after that.

He had told them that Darry hadn't abused him, but he did not know how much they believed him. They had tried speaking to Soda, but it was not until the nurse came by and had seen them trying to question him that they had been thrown out. They couldn't afford Soda to get emotional and risk worsening the attack. Pony was beginning to develop a dislike for the fuzz to rival Tim Shepard.

"How is he?" Darry asked softly. He knew his voice would not wake Soda. Nothing short of a volcano could wake the middle Curtis in the best of circumstances.

"Better," said Pony. "Loads better." He was a little surprised to find his cheeks suddenly become wet, the stress of the night taking its toll.

"Hey," muttered Darry, "don't worry, Pony; Soda'll be fine. He always is."

"It ain't that!" Pony said a little louder. Soda did not stir. "What if they take us away from you?"

Darry was silent for a few moments. "They won't. We know the truth, Pony, and the truth always wins."

Pony knew Darry was just saying that to placate his fears, but he took it. "They tried interrogating Soda," he informed Darry.

Darry made an odd, jerky movement, almost as though he was going to smack the wall but then thought better of it. "They _what_?" he asked in a furious whisper.

"The nurse got real mad. They ain't allowed to come near him now, not while he's in here."

The door opened once again and a doctor entered. He said nothing to either of the brothers, just took the chart at the end of Soda's bed. His eyebrows raised slightly as he read it. "This is Sodapop Curtis?" he asked.

Darry nodded. He was used to answering questions at hospitals dozens of times to dozens of people – it was how they avoided mistakes – but a patient's name was usually pretty basic, and only needed to be asked once.

"He's been in intensive care for asthma before, right?"

Darry looked at Soda. It had been years now, but he remembered that time like it was yesterday. It was the only time he had ever seen his father cry. "Just the once," he whispered.

"Huh." The doctor put the chart back at the foot of the bed and stood to face the two brothers. "When he wakes up, tell him that if he's still interested, then I'll help him in whatever way possible. Tell him Dr Falkens said that."

X X X X

**A/N**: This would have been up a LOT earlier, but FF wasn't allowing people to upload documents… again. I wasn't too happy with the original, so I went back and redid it in that time.

Please review and tell me what you think!


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N**: Thank you so much to everyone still reading and/or reviewing! I am seriously grateful to all you guys.

Just a quick note on what a nebulizer is – I had meant to put it in last A/N but I was so ticked off at FF not letting me upload that it slipped my mind. It's a device used when an asthma attack is, like, _really _bad. It's administered via a face mask or mouthpiece and basically sends medicine straight to the lungs. They usually give it to someone for a few minutes at a time.

X X X X

Darry walked slowly through the corridors of the hospital back towards the elevator, on his way to collect Steve and Two-Bit. His mind was going at a thousand miles an hour, thinking over everything that had happened the past few years and how all of it, somehow, had led to tonight.

One brother was stuck in the hospital for God only knew how long, while the other was basically homeless. He knew they could not remain here forever. Darry was going to have to find a place to stay for Ponyboy and immediately get to making his own house inhabitable. He had left the property before the fire was completely quenched, but he was almost certain they had managed to save the front part. That was a small mercy.

And then there were Soda's hospital bills to think about. As long as he remained sick he had a place to stay, but Darry did not know how much this was going to cost him. Whatever it was, he would pay, but once Soda was out he, too, would need a roof over his head. If the asthma attack lasted long enough, Darry knew he would have to use any money he needed for repairs to keep Soda in here, to keep him alive. But he would still get out, and when he did, he would need the house Darry wasn't sure he could provide. That was a reason for the state taking Soda and Pony if ever there was one.

The elevator dinged and Darry exited, making his way towards the ER. Steve and Two-Bit were still there, still in much the same positions they had been in when Darry left. As soon as they saw him, the tableau broke, and Two-Bit and Steve walked quickly over.

"What did the fuzz say?" Steve asked without preamble. "They find the arsonists?"

"They really couldn't give a hang whether we've got somewhere to stay or not," Darry said bitterly, already turning to return to the elevator. "They found out Pony's bleeding and bruised from the rumble, and the hospital told them about Soda's rib."

"What's your point?" Steve asked coldly, but Darry knew the tone of his voice was not directed at him.

"They assumed I've been hitting them."

Steve stopped abruptly, and Darry and Two-Bit halted a few steps in front, turning to him. Steve looked mad. No, he didn't just look mad. He looked about ready to kill.

"_What_? How can they think that… it's obvious we just got in a fight; I mean, hell, we've all got bruises and cuts too!"

"Steve –"

"No, you listen, Darry; you have been nothing but great to Soda and Pony and anyone can see that. You should see the look on Pony's face when he talks about you – he really admires you, whether he knows it or not! If those police idiots don't know that, I'd like to tell them myself!"

"Steve! Don't make things worse!" Darry had raised his voice to cut off his friend, and it attracted the attention of a few people passing by. He looked around as if trying to find the right words, quieting himself once more and trying to keep their conversation as private as possible. "What would they say if you yelled and screamed at them? They'd think I let my brothers around people who can't control their tempers. I know how these people work, Steve! I've dealt with them for years! Let me handle this." Before Steve could respond, Darry turned back towards the elevator, signaling an end to the debate.

The three were silent on the way up to the fourth floor. The tension between Steve and Darry was tangible, and instead of saying anything, Two-Bit was examining the ceiling thoughtfully, not wanting to cause the two to recommence their fight.

The elevator dinged and Steve and Darry walked out. "Ain't you coming, Two-Bit?" Darry asked when his friend did not move.

"I'm gonna go back down and use the phone," he said. "Gotta make a call to a lovely lady and tell her I won't be round tonight."

"Come by soon," Darry said. "Soda'll want to see you. Thanks about earlier."

Two-Bit cracked a grin. "Donkeys without stripes is an important and worthwhile topic of conversation!" His hand was at the elevator door, preventing it from moving. "I'll be by in a few minutes; it's just a quick phone call."

The elevator door shut and Steve and Darry continued down the corridor. When they reached Soda's door, Darry stopped. "You go in," he said quietly. "I've just… I have to think about some things."

Steve looked at him for a moment, his mouth open slightly, almost as though he were on the verge of speech. But then, the contact was broken, and Steve's mouth shut as he looked briefly to the ground. "Sure," he muttered, "sure…"

Steve went inside the small room and Darry was left alone in the corridor. Then, only then, did he allow the emotions he had been walling up ever since he arrived home to spill forth, and he sank to the floor, silent tears coursing down his cheeks. Neither Soda nor Pony had any inclination to suspect that Darry was not the strong brother he so convincingly played. He had mastered the art of letting none of his emotions out until late at night, when all talk had ceased from his younger brothers' room, when the house was silent. Now was like all those times put together to form one huge mass of pain.

He didn't know what he was going to do. His house was uninhabitable, and he was still under the eyes of police for abusing his brothers. He remembered that night – had it really been little more than a week ago? – when Soda had warned him against taking him to the doctor for precisely this reason. Darry had thought he had been in the clear…

If they took his brothers, whether because they believed he hurt them or because he could not provide a home, he didn't know what he would do. There was nothing left for him but them.

He glanced back up at the door to his brother's room and one loud sniff escaped his reign of control. He couldn't remember the last time he had been as scared as when Soda was leaning against him, fighting for even the tiniest amount of air. It wasn't _fair_! Why did it have to be his house? Why his brother? Why his parents?

With a monumental effort, Darry fought to bring back the calm exterior that had become his second skin. He dried his eyes hastily on his shirt sleeve and stood to his feet, not even a hint of the breakdown he had just suffered visible.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor Darry. I really don't think he's as calm as we're all led to believe. That guy copped it bad from life! (Is it just me, or was that a very Australian sentence right there?)

Please review! I always ask but they are always appreciated. They really mean a lot to a young author!


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N**: I know, I know, it's been another couple of days and this time it's not FF's fault. I hope you'll forgive me; my sister's had a really tough time the last couple of days and I really had to be there for her. And I also think the stress was coming out in my writing; I like this chapter, but I wrote it like 3 times to get it right, all the others it barely even sounded coherent.

Thank you so much to everyone who has been giving me their continued support! This is for you!

Italics denote flashback/dream.

X X X X

Darry dreamed…

"_But I thought we were being careful!" ca__me a loud voice from inside the aged house. Darry looked up from where he was digging a small hole in the dirt, partially annoyed that his construction of an in-ground oven for his mud pies had been disturbed and partially frightened. His parents never fought, not really, and the only disagreements they had were usually about what time Darry or Soda had to go to bed. Darry knew the Disagreement was not about bedtime now. In fact, he was highly suspicious that his parents had realized he was out playing in the front yard alone – something Darry knew was strictly forbidden. He knew he was supposed to be inside learning his times tables (the usefulness of which Darry could not fathom) and had thought he had been careful. But it was such a beautiful day…_

_Darry stood and made his way over to the porch, wiping his hands guiltily on his overalls. He didn't see why playing outside alone was forbidden – sure, Soda should not be allowed out, but Darry was a big boy and Soda was too little. Darry knew he could handle anything that might threaten the safety of himself or his home._

_Another voice, this one belonging to his mother, shushed his father's loud opinion. Soda was taking a nap – another reason why Darry should not have been outside. Sodapop would be mad at him if he found out Darry got to play while he had been made to sleep. But Darry reminded himself that he was a big boy. Soda should understand that._

_Darry opened the front door, looking at the floor. He knew he had done something wrong and was expecting the reprimand to come any moment. When none came, Darry moved forward quietly, hoping to make it to his room before either of his parents spotted him._

"_We were being careful, Darrel," said Mom quietly. _Diplomatically_, Darry thought. He had learned that word in school the week previously. His teacher had been so proud. "Sometimes these things just happen, and –"_

"_And what, Elsie, what?" Dad sounded angry. That wasn't right; Dad never sounded angry. He was the one who let Darry stay up all the way until eight thirty, as long as Mom wasn't there to stop it. She made Darry go to bed at seven. The boy inched closer. He was now standing in the corridor, but the door was open and he could hear every word that was coming from the living room, where Darrel and Elsie Curtis were standing, ignoring the radio that was on to a low volume and – in Dad's case – Mom's wishes for him to remain quiet so as not to wake Soda. "We don't know what's wrong with Soda! None of the doctors know if whatever it is will get worse, none of them know if it will happen to the new baby, and I don't want to lose another child!"_

New baby_? They couldn't be talking about Soda, could they? Dad was awfully insistent that Sodapop was too old to be called a baby. Darry didn't think so. Soda was littler than he was, and Darry knew it wasn't all that long ago that Dad had first said he was getting to be a "mighty big boy". Soda wasn't that big yet!_

"_What do you expect me to do?" Mom screamed suddenly. The word "hysterically" came to Darry's mind. He had learned that one on his own. "There's nothing we _can _do! And you're all talking like Soda ain't gonna get better, that my baby's gonna die! What kind of father says that?" Mom was yelling now, and Darry heard screams start coming from Soda's room. Sodapop had been awfully grumpy for a few months now if anything didn't go his way. Dad called it the "terrible twos", but Darry saw it as more of a reason to call Soda a baby rather than promote him to Darry's level. _

_Dad was silent and Mom continued, quieter now but otherwise ignoring Soda's cries. "So what are you gonna do now, Darrel? Drop me downtown with a hundred dollars?" Mom's__ vocabulary was lowering itself to the level Dad usually spoke at. She was real strict about speaking properly, and Darry knew her speech only became poor when she was really upset. Darry felt a rush of compassion rise for his mom, and resolved to give her a hug when the Disagreement was over. "While you're at it, why don't you take that there knife and cut your youngest son's throat?" Mom's voice broke, and Darry heard her start to cry. Darry had heard Soda cry before – he cried about anything – but never had he heard Mom cry. It made him angry, angry at whatever it was that made Mom angry. His young mind could not understand the direction of the conversation, but he suddenly knew that this was no longer a Disagreement. His parents were having a fight._

"_How can you say that?" Dad breathed. He, too, was ignoring Soda's continued screams__ still coming from the bedroom. _

"_Well, if you're going to do it, then DO IT!" Mom screamed._

_Darry had heard enough. He ran into the lounge, ready to show Dad what a big boy he really was and comfort his mom in her time of need. He thought he had been prepared for what he would undoubtedly face, but then he saw her there, kneeling on the ground, chest heaving like Soda's did right before they family went to the big white place – the hoppital, Dad had called it – and all he could do was stare. _

_Soda had always been able to predict whenever they had to go there, which, against his better judgment and his role as the older, bigger brother, Darry thought was real clever. If Soda's chest started heaving__ or stopped moving at all, Darry knew he was in for a boring few hours at the hoppital, Mom and Dad taking turns teaching him new math problems or correcting his spelling, neither listening to his wishes to play. At least Soda got to lie down and sleep at the hoppital. Nobody let Darry sleep._

_And now that he saw his mom, his strength and courage, sitting on the floor in tears, Darry could not stop his own__ eyes from welling up, and soon he had joined his mother on the floor, and his cries joined Soda's. Dad was the only one not participating in the family show of grief. He stood stock still, fists clenched by his sides as he looked at his wife with eyes unseeing. "Fine," he muttered eventually, "fine…" He reached for his pocket and withdrew his mystery pouch, the thing Darry and Soda were not allowed to touch. Darry watched through his tears as Dad took several green notes from the mystery pouch, the value of which Darry could not see, and placed them slowly on the floor, pushing them towards Mom and leaving them at no man's land in the middle of the floor. The he stood and went to go comfort Soda._

_Mom sniffed loudly as she grabbed the bills from the floor, crushing them in her hand as she tried to dry her eyes with her shirt; something she always told Darry was a nasty habit. _

"_Darry," she said, her voice quivering even as she tried to quell her tears, "something wonderful has happened, honey. Soon you'll have a new baby brother or sister to play with, and everything will be –"_

"Darry!"

Darry sat up swiftly and instantly regretted it. He had fallen asleep in the chair next to Soda's bed, and his back, already hurting from the constant strain he put it under with work and from the rumble, seemed to scream out in protest. Twisting awkwardly in his chair, Darry gripped the back of it and twisted even further, making the vertebrae crack audibly. Groaning softly, he looked up at Two-Bit. "What?" he asked.

"You were… never mind. My mom's downstairs. She says y'all can stay at our house until yours is fixed up –"

"No, Two-Bit, I couldn't –"

"_Until yours is fixed up_," said Two-Bit firmly. "She was real tough on that point. Won't let you do anything else, especially not when you've got the state on your backs and all…"

Darry rubbed the sleep from his eyes, feeling as he did it the strange wetness on his cheeks. Had he been – Oh, God, no, what if he had cried in his sleep and scared Soda? That would be a disaster. But as he looked at his little brother, he could notice no changes. Soda still slept in the same position he had been when Darry had entered the room however long ago.

But Pony… "Two-Bit," Darry said hoarsely, "where's my brother?"

Two-Bit pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You know, not to tarnish your image on how tough your brother is, but I personally do not think Sodapop's going anywhere right now –"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Two-Bit, now where's Pony?"

"He's down with my mom. The doctor came back in to give Soda another nebulizer dose and Pony… I don't really think he took it that good."

Darry swore. "Did I… did I say anything in my sleep?"

Two-Bit grinned cockily. "Dreaming about a little someone special, were you?" He sobered up instantly when Darry fixed him with a hard stare. "Nah, you didn't, but you were… you were crying."

Darry nodded slowly. He had figured that much himself, and as long as he had said nothing he was happy. He had never told either of his brothers that Pony had been a complete accident. He had not understood when he was younger, and therefore thought nothing of it; and then when he was old enough to figure that memory out in full, when he realized the fear Mom and Dad had held for both Soda's and Ponyboy's lives that day, when he realized the money passed quietly along the living room floor had been for an abortion, he knew he could never tell a soul. Soda would become overwhelmed with guilt at the emotional strain his health placed upon the shoulders of all in their little family, especially in those first years when the asthma had gone undiagnosed; but Pony… Ponyboy would be ruined.

"Listen, Darry," Steve said, standing up from a chair Darry had not seen in the corner of the room. "Me and Two-Bit have been talking, and we have to insist you go sleep. You're exhausted; you and Ponyboy both. We can hold the fort up here."

"No," said Darry firmly, his eyes fixing back on Soda.

"_Yes_," said Steve. "His condition's stable, Darry; he'll be here when you get back. The doctors all agree he's past the danger point."

"There's no way to tell if he won't have another attack," said Darry, trying to bring his friends on side. "I won't leave him."

"Darry, if he was at home and as healthy as could be, there'd still be risk of an attack. He's more likely to last through an attack here, you know that."

Darry's face darkened. He didn't even want to think about the kind of options the hospital had if Soda got any worse. He had seen those "_options_" one too many times.

"My mom'll drive you back," said Two-Bit. "You're too tired, and from what Sodapop's told me, I'd take you driving blindfolded with concussion after a night on the town over a sober and healthy Pony any day."

Darry sighed, knowing he had lost the argument. "Call me if there's the slightest change," he said. "If he so much as sneezes, I want to know about it."

"Course," said Two-Bit happily. "I'll tell Soda to eat lots; if his stomach rumbles, the army will fly right back from Vietnam to feed him, at the great Lord Darry's command."

"Right," scoffed Steve. "You, Two-Bit Mathews, should have been born a donkey. Would've saved us all a lot of trouble."

Two-Bit smiled and began to retort, but Darry never heard it. Closing the door softly on one brother, he went to go and look for the other. They may not always see eye to eye, but Darry knew with certainty that he would forever be grateful that Mom had been too tender hearted to go through with the abortion; she had preferred running the risk of the baby getting whatever it was Soda had and give it the chance at life than to not give it any kind of life at all. Ponyboy was going to go on to do great things; Darry had always known that, but first and foremost, he was his brother; family; one whom Darry loved with all his heart. That dream had reinforced that knowledge.

But deep inside, Darry wished Two-Bit had waited just a fraction of a second more to wake him up. The little boy and son inside Darry just wanted to hear his mom say everything would be fine, just one more time.

X X X X

**A/N**: I actually really like this chapter, better than the trash I was writing as a possible other chapter 22. So glad that never saw the light.

Also – this is kinda **important **– I know there are going to be a lot of people very unhappy with how I portrayed the Curtis parents, but I'd really like them to think before forming an opinion about me or this story. Neither Darrel nor Elsie knew what was wrong with Soda; at that point they thought it was some weird exotic disease or something. They didn't know, since it was uncharted territory, if it would get worse with age or better or stay the same. They didn't know whether or not Soda actually had a very mild form of whatever disease, and might have thought Pony would get it far worse, and they also may have assumed it was something one of them did as a lifestyle choice sometime between the births of Darry and Soda that made Soda sick. If that were the case, they would have thought they had continued to do whatever it was, they would think Pony would be a lot sicker than Soda, and Elsie may have miscarried even. Remember that neither parent had a medical degree, and this was the 50s.

So my point is this: with so many fears of even greater emotional and physical trauma on both the child and the rest of the family than when Soda was born, and while living on a very low income, abortion might have, in the heat of a fight, looked to be a better option than running the risk of wasting time, effort and money when the baby may not have survived very long (if Pony had been sicker than Soda, remembering that here Soda was surviving without any medication, then let's face it, he might very well have not lived). The parents, also, are trying to support a young family when one member is constantly being hospitalized (the reason they do not have insurance will be discussed very soon) on a very low income, and the cost of a pregnancy is very high. Just remember that Pony did not get aborted, that this scene I wrote took place at a time of very high emotional stress, particularly for pregnant and hormonal Elsie, and that they were happy family very shortly afterward. Woah, that was long, but I think it needed to be discussed.

Some little facts about this chapter: I used to make mud pies and ovens in my backyard, and I used to call it the hoppital too. I was also very interested in being a "big girl", and I had forbidden the use of that name by my little sister like Darry did to Soda. Made me feel tough!

Review please!! I really did work hard on this chapter (it's 1 am now) and I'd really like some opinions on this bit. I am doing this for free! And remember, I still love theories!


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N**: I have very exciting news! Thanks to a little reminder from SodapopSteve, I have just uploaded the first chapter of I Ain't Useless to the internet as a podfic. Basically, fanfic, read aloud, in an mp3 format so you can upload it to your iPod or whatever and listen to it while you cook, exercise, go on public transport, or (my favourite) work. It is much harder for the boss to spot a fanfic when it is in your ears…

The link is in my profile if anyone's interested. I'd just like to say that in my podfic listening experience, I've found the readers all bad at first, but then the voice or intonation has ceased to become an issue. This is just because we're used to hearing them in our brains as we read, I reckon, and the reader sounds different to your idea of what the story ought to sound like, so if it feels a bit weird keep listening for a while to get used to the reader. This chapter was the first podfic I've ever done, and so it wasn't the best job of editing or anything, but I know what I could do better so chapter 2 will be a whole lot better. I actually realized I sounded really up myself with something I said in the author note recording but I didn't mean to; I just have a really dry sense of humour…

Thanks again to everyone who reviewed (hugs) and to everyone who is continuing to read even after I said Pony was an accident who was almost aborted… I'm the author, though, so what I say goes ;) Mwahahaha.

X X X X

Pony could feel Darry's eyes on him, but he did not turn to acknowledge him, simply remaining staring out the window of Mrs Mathews' car. He was tired; it was nearing dawn now, the sky showing the first hints of a new day. Ponyboy loved to watch sunsets, but if he were honest with himself, the triumphant rise of the orange sun to warm a world left cold and bereft of light was inspirational in a way only a dreamer like him could truly appreciate.

"Pony?" Darry said softly, interrupting the other's thoughts. "You okay?"

Ponyboy felt strangely cheated. What did Darry expect him to say? That he was fine, that seeing his brother suffocate as their house burned down had not affected him even in the slightest? Pony was scared; scared in a way he had not been for many years. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said wearily.

Darry continued to observe him, not buying his words for a moment, but he let it slide and said no more.

X X X X

"So the couch is there; it folds out into a bed. We can set up something else when Soda comes home, but for now this should do. If Rachel comes down and wants to watch TV, feel free to use my bed or Two-Bit's; he won't mind. Anything you need is in the fridge; you don't need to ask, what's mine is yours…"

"I can't thank you enough for what you're doing for us," said Darry sincerely as Mrs Mathews put a couple of blankets on the couch. "I'll never be able to thank you properly, but if there's anything I can do for you…"

Mrs Mathews waved his thanks off. "Oh, it's no problem. Consider it repayment for all the nights my son has stayed over at your house!" She laughed at the thought. Mrs Mathews was a very friendly woman who had, ever since Darry and Pony had met her, had the ability to laugh when things were not going so brilliantly. It was a gift Pony only ever remembered seeing in his dad and Soda, and Mrs Mathews had been at it so long that the wrinkles gracing the sides of her eyes were not a blemish, but an asset. They gave her a look of wisdom mixed with good humour and open friendliness that few could deny. Pony knew, by way of a secret confession from Two-Bit, that she had, on occasion, managed to wrangle her way out of a parking ticket with her obvious warmth and open manner. The officers believed anything she told them. "Now, boys, I have to get off to work. Feel free to catch the bus back to the hospital whenever you like, but send Two-Bit home once you get there; I don't want to leave Rachel home alone for any longer than an hour…"

"Sure," said Darry, watching as Two-Bit's mother walked out the door, waving goodbye with the hand holding the keys. As soon as she was gone, Darry sat down on the couch and sighed.

It was silent for a few moments, moments in which Darry was lost in his thoughts while Pony was standing, fiddling with his jacket. He could not help but feel awkward, though he knew there was no reason for him to be.

Darry pulled something out of his pocket: the envelope Pony had seen him take from a receptionist on their way out of the hospital. "Pony, maybe you should grab yourself some breakfast," said Darry tiredly as he slit open the envelope.

"I'm not hungry, Darry," Pony said. Darry unfolded the letter and took a brief look. For one tiny fraction of a second, Pony thought he saw something rather like fear and panic flit across Darry's features before they were quickly schooled again, but it was so small that he could have imagined it.

Darry stuffed the paper back into his pocket and patted the seat beside him, inviting Ponyboy to sit. It was only as Pony accepted the offer and sat next to his oldest brother that he realized just how tired he was. He leaned against Darry and felt his oldest brother's arm go around him.

"Tell you what, Pone," said Darry quietly. "We'll fold out the couch and try for a few hours' sleep. Then we'll go see Soda again, okay?"

Pony nodded sleepily against him and then reluctantly got to his feet, helping Darry to remove the cushions and pull out the inside of the couch to form a bed. They laid out the blankets on top and used the cushions that had been lying on top as pillows. Pony snuggled down, already almost overcome by the need to sleep for a year without waking up. Darry lay down beside him, throwing an arm across him the way Soda did when they were at home. Home… would they ever get there?

Darry continued to lie awake a long time after he heard Pony's breaths even out as he dropped into slumber. What was written on that sheet of paper was engraved into his mind, torturing him, keeping him awake far more than the sunrise streaming through the window next to the couch ever could.

_Seventy four dollars and sixty seven cents_. The words rang in his ears like a bad song, replaying themselves over and over again. That was how much money the hospital was demanding simply for Soda to go through the emergency room. None of the rest of the bill – _just _the emergency room. Darry had always known his parents had trouble with Soda's hospital bills, but this was the first time his brother had been hospitalized since their parents died, the first time Darry was taking care of it alone.

Pony had been billed almost that much after he came back from Windrixville, but since he had been discharged immediately, Darry knew there were no more bills coming. The one bill they had received was covered by insurance, and so Darry had never taken any notice of it. He should have; he knew that now. He should have known that if that was what Pony with a few minor burns and a touch of smoke inhalation had cost, then Soda having an asthma attack would be almost impossible to cope with financially.

When his parents had been alive, they had searched high and low for an insurance company that would agree to support the whole family. They had all seemed wonderful, open and friendly, wanting to help a young family out if ever they had an emergency, but then they had requested medical information. Chronic disease didn't sound too good to someone who was offering to foot the medical bills. It was amazing how fast the insurance workers' faces went from smiling and friendly, in full salesperson mode, to cold as ice, clearly wanting them gone.

Some companies had been willing to overlook Soda and still give them the family deal, so Darry and Pony both had insurance, as had their parents when they were alive. Soda didn't. Darry was looking at having to fork out what would very soon become hundreds, and he knew his slim chances of keeping his brothers just grew a whole lot slimmer.

X X X X

**A/N**: Please review  and download chapter 1 from the link in my profile. Not much action in this chapter, I know, but it was necessary.

Oh, and incidentally, $74.67 is pretty close to 500 today, which is actually about the amount I spent at the ER when I was over there.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N**: There was a riot at school today! Just thought I might tell everyone that!

Updates will be coming less frequently in the next couple of weeks, I'm afraid. I have about five assignments and four or so exams set just in the next two weeks, so am very pressed for time.

Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed  Your reviews are what keeps me sane through principals yelling about how we're all a bunch of no good layabouts! (No joke, she did that! Then the head of maths said we were all druggies and skanks! I mean, it's a grade of 160, you can't class every one of us like that. Oh well, now I know how the greasers feel.)

X X X X

"Good morning, Soda."

Soda's eyes snapped open. It seemed that somebody was always trying to disturb his sleep, whether it be a nurse coming to do something pointless like pull the curtains open to blind him, not even bothering to lower her voice as she yelled out the door to her friend; some cleaner crashing and banging around; or, worst of all, one of those idiot doctors who had been in twice already during the night to make him blow into some stupid plastic thing only to tell him it wasn't good enough and he had to blow harder. So he did, which made his already extremely weak lungs completely give out until they dosed him up on medicine and left, leaving him alone only about twenty minutes before another nurse came in and started the whole process again. He had yet to look at whoever it was directly as he tried to adjust his eyes to the sunlight, but Soda was almost certain it was one of those stupid doctors.

But those were the least of his worries. He was feeling better, but it still felt as though someone was performing surgery on his lungs from the inside without anaesthetic every time he breathed in or out. There was not enough room to fit any air at all in without pain, though the oxygen helped some; and even when he tried to hold his breath there was still quite an ache. He was constantly fighting the attempts of his body to expel the air completely in harsh coughs, making his body jerk occasionally, which in turn made it more painful. Soda longed to give in to the impulse, consequences be damned, and he knew he would have if he hadn't known what those consequences could well be. He knew asthma was unpredictable, and he was not out of the woods yet.

He blinked a couple more times before turning his head towards whatever person had come to disturb him this time. The doctor had his back turned at that moment; he was plugging in that stupid nebulizer. So that meant the stupid plastic blowy-thingy again.

"A couple of guys were in here earlier, but they went down to the cafeteria right as I came in," he said in a voice Soda found himself recognizing, though he could not think of where from. Perhaps he was the same doctor as previously. "One was wearing jeans that had an awful black grease stain up the leg, and the other looked at a photo of my wife and told me my mother was beautiful."

_Oh, Two-Bit, you'll never manage to function in society_, Soda thought wryly. He wished his friend hadn't said that; Soda had had the "evil doctor" in the past and had resolved that he would never again treat a doctor with anything other than utmost respect. He hated being a suck up, but that was the only language some people understood. It may be a generalization, but most people liked their doctors to come immediately when they started choking. Soda smiled slightly as he remembered Mom's screaming match in the corridor afterwards. That fellow's career had ended pretty swiftly.

The doctor straightened and turned, and Soda realized where he had heard the voice before. It was Dr Falkens, the man whom Soda had once naively thought could lead him to a miracle out of this cursed life. Soda looked away.

Dr Falkens shoved a notepad and pencil into his hand. "How are you feeling?"

Soda wrote a single four letter word on the paper, all in capital letters. Dr Falkens cocked an eyebrow, reminding Soda of Two-Bit. "Right… I don't think we need to repeat that," he muttered. Soda wrote something else on the paper and shoved it back. Dr Falkens took one look and then laughed. "No, I don't think I'll have you use the 'blowy-thingy', as you so eloquently put it, again. I don't see the point; whatever number's going to come out, it won't be high."

Soda moved his gaze to stare resolutely at the juncture where the wall met the ceiling as the doctor brought the mouthpiece of the nebulizer up towards him. He tried, he tried so hard, but his mind was constantly wandering to the day he had had his idea rejected by this man.

It was silent for a few minutes as Soda breathed as deeply and steadily as he could manage. He felt his lungs begin to relax slightly and he was able to fit more in.

"Did your brothers talk to you earlier?" Dr Falkens asked.

"No," said Soda. His voice sounded strange to his ears after going that long without using it. It was only one word, but was still a step up from the silence the attack had forced him into for several hours now. Soda had always been a bit of a talker, and the only times he ever kept quiet for so long was when he was sleeping. He wrote the rest of his thoughts on the notepad. _I slept for ages, and when I woke up, Darry was asleep and Pony was gone. Darry must've left too_.

"Ah," Dr Falkens said. "Well, I came to a conclusion." He took the seat next to the bed, sighing as his weight was taken off his feet. Doctors in hospitals never really got much of a break to sit, and while this particular doctor was not yet old, he was certainly getting on in years. "After you spoke to me… I knew I was right. I can't afford the time or the money, and I know I do not have the brain for it." He laughed softly. "But, after a lot of deliberation, I have decided to help you out, if you're still interested."

Soda stared for a moment and then started writing faster than he had written in his life, compromising his neatness and coming out with an emotional scrawl. _Of course I am! I'm the one who's stuck here, it ain't you! That came out wrong… thank you. Why'd you decide to do it? Well, I suppose it's because it's important, ain't it, I mean, I ain't even the worst off in the world – people die every day from it here in America, and that doesn't even include all the other countries – _The pen broke off mid sentence, and Soda looked up, smiling softly. "I ramble," he muttered.

Dr Falkens laughed. "Well, there's the answer to your question. You have drive, Soda. That is an important part of yourself to treasure. Also, I realized what you did; people die. As a doctor I'm sworn to save lives, but how can we do that when we don't possess the knowledge of how to do it? And then my seventeen year old is going through a… phase… I may have let slip over dinner that a boy had come to me with a dream for the betterment of the world and that I had rebuffed him. She screamed at me, told me that anyone with the opportunity to help the world has a moral duty to do so, or they are no better than a dog… and then there was last night." He sighed and the slight grin he had worn previously faded. "I witnessed, for the first time in my life, the true damage an asthma attack can do to not just one person, but a whole family. I know if it had been my daughter, I'd have progressed beyond punching the wall, but your brothers just sat there and took it. They shouldn't have to be used to it."

Soda was silent. He knew that they shouldn't have to be used to it, and Darry shouldn't have to be used to paying for it. He felt guilt rise to the surface once again, as it had been doing too often this week. He knew the odds were overwhelmingly stacked against them, but Soda had his drive and his passion for life. He would beat this, beat it for all the kids and adults in the world who suffered, beat it for himself, but mostly, he would beat it for Ponyboy and Darry. They deserved that much.

X X X X

**A/N**: The blowy-thingy is, I think, called a lung capacity measure. You blow really hard in and it comes up with a number.

Next chapter we return to Steve fixing Tim's car and that… any theories? Please take the time to review; they are so important to me!


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N**: Now I have some bad news. I had said that updates will be coming less frequently because I have a ridiculous number of exams and assignments, but I'm afraid this might well be the last one for as long as a week or two. We got a call that said we had one week to find a new house and move: our landlords went broke and the bank took the house. It's a shame, but I'm not too worried. Feel more sorry for next door who moved in all of three weeks ago – the whole street's getting evicted! I'm looking on the bright side: now I can write the Curtis' feelings more realistically!

I have not had time to check my emails for quite a while and I probably will not have much time in the near future, but thank you so much to anyone who reviewed! It means so much! You guys are the best!

X X X X

Steve ran a hand across his forehead, taking a deep breath as he stood up from the open bonnet of the car. The weather sure was starting to warm up. It would definitely be a hot summer.

He had had to leave the hospital for work soon after he had gone for breakfast in the cafeteria with Two-Bit, which meant he had stayed out all night. It gave him a washed-out, exhausted look, according to his boss, who said he would scare off the customers. Idiot. It wasn't like he was a model or anything.

He had almost finished repairing Tim's car, which, in all honesty, surprised him with how little time it had taken. The damage had been quite extensive, and Steve was of the opinion that Tim perhaps should have invested in a new one. He supposed it was the sentimental value of the vehicle that had made him pay for it to get fixed.

Steve walked into the shop to use the phone. Charlie, the other guy who shared his shift, was leaning against the counter with a bored expression. Steve liked him well enough, but he struck him as being very false, almost like a Soc. They never got beyond a casual conversation.

Steve picked up the receiver and dialed Tim's number. When nobody picked up, he growled in annoyance and slammed it back down. Tim was _never _home.

To his surprise, Tim was standing in the garage right as Steve walked back in, looking over his car. "Is it done?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Steve. "I just tried to call you."

Tim nodded slowly and went back to examining his now good as new car. There was a reason the DX got more customers than just about any gas station in Tulsa. Steve said nothing; it was clear Tim had something on the tip of his tongue. "I heard Darry's house got destroyed," he said slowly.

Steve swallowed. It could have happened to anybody and he would not care, but not the Curtises. Hell, why couldn't they have burned down Tim's house? Steve had to admit that he deserved it after everything he had done in his life, though he would never say it out loud. At least Tim's family would not be ripped apart. "Yeah," he muttered. "The back part, yeah. They saved the living room and kitchen."

"Do you know why?" Tim asked quietly.

Steve sighed. "There was a Soc there," he said. "He'd gotten Soda out. He was the one whose house was blown up over their side. He said it was like a combination of revenge for that guy's house and a wish to destroy the one place a greaser could go when times got rough." Steve was slightly reluctant about revealing this information; he did not know how Tim would take it. He was not normally a pacifist, and he was loath to agree with Ponyboy, but he desperately hoped the violence would stop for a while. It was getting out of hand, and he knew it was simple luck that Randy had taken the time to follow the arsonists and had bothered to save a greaser. Steve wanted life for the Socs to be as difficult as possible. After what they had done to Soda, he wanted those responsible dead, but he knew now that anything the greasers did to retaliate might end in tragedy for them. "Tim, look, don't do anything. If one of our lot does anything more to their lot then their lot might do something even worse to us. You know they told the police that Pony was covered in blood from the rumble and Soda had that cracked rib from when he got jumped? Darry's under investigation for abusing them, on top of everything else."

Tim laughed humourlessly, bitterly. "This ain't like you at all, Randle," he said. "You used to want them all dead."

"I do still," said Steve. "I just realized that at this time it's safer for everyone to leave it. I just want them to stop suspecting Darry, then we can go back and start ruining their lives."

Tim took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up. For once, Steve did not tell him to put it out: smoking at a gas station was a very bad idea, for he was more transfixed by the strange emotions going across Tim's face. The fact that there were any emotions at all was strange in itself; Tim, like Dally before him, was tough. "I guess I have to say that I've had my revenge," he said quietly. "You wanted to know how I wrecked my car. I drove it right into the side of a Soc house."

Steve remained silent as Tim continued. Soda had always gotten stuck into him for having a judgmental personality, for blaming people, but Steve could not help but watch silently as his mind slowly drew the conclusion that Soda was in hospital and Darry homeless and under investigation because of Tim Shepard. "I did it because they'd hurt one of us. I didn't know which Socs had done it, so I just picked a random house. It was filled with money, necklaces and earrings and all that – Soc idiots obviously don't know how to use a bank. I took all that, sold the jewels pretty damn quick."

Steve's eyes had narrowed to slits by now. Tim looked at him almost questioningly, and Steve's fist slammed into his face. "You're lucky that's all I'm willing to do at work," he said dangerously.

Tim swore but straightened up fast. "Listen, Steve," he said, his voice becoming hard once more. "I came here with this." He held up a bag Steve hadn't noticed until now that had been sitting on the floor by Tim's feet. "You know what's in it? Money. Take however much you want for the car repair job and thanks very much for that. Give the rest to Darry. He deserves it; he's housed the both of us and fed us, not to mention all the others. It may not be much when you look at what he needs, but it's a start."

Steve stared as Tim shoved the bag at him and shut the bonnet to his car, getting in the front and driving away. It was a shock to discover Tim almost had feelings, just like it had been when he discovered Dally had feelings, just like it had been a shock to discover a Soc had saved Soda's life.

The world was not as simple a place as he had been led to believe.

X X X X

**A/N**: I reckon if Tim had featured more in the book, he would have had feelings. That's a lot why I wrote this. I said before Tim did not care about Soda, but I reckon he would care about Darry after all he did for the community.

Please take the time to send a review! Take some time to do that and make me de-stress about moving when we don't know where yet! (Don't worry, if we don't find a place my dad's work is putting us up for however long is needed. We're fine.)


	26. Chapter 26

**A/**N: Thank you so much to any reviews I may have gotten over the past few days – I haven't checked my emails yet. I'll reply to each and every one when I get some more time – I'm already looking at skipping sport to pack boxes… Also thanks so much to everyone still reading. I still love to hear from lurkers, and though it might take me a while, I'll respond to every signed review I get.

Italics denote flashback/dream.

X X X X

Darry dreamed…

_His eyes flew around the track faster than they should have watching his kid brother run. Man, Pony was fast; he always had been. Darry wasn't; his strength was more in__ heavy objects than running with the wind and sunbeams the only things able to keep up. Glory, did he wish he could run like that._

_They were at the __elementary school track meet, the only family outing that remained a fixed date in the calendar. Everything else was too difficult to organize around Dad's work, and with Darry starting a new after-school job to earn some extra pocket money, it was even harder. All their outings were spontaneously planned; something that amused Soda and exhausted Darry. He liked things to be set out in concrete so proper planning could be exercised; it was too often he forgot something small but very necessary, like his water bottle._

_Ponyboy came tearing past the finish line miles before the other contestants. Dad and Soda both stood up on their chairs, screaming like sports hooligans. Mom looked a little embarrassed, but Darry could see the amusement in her eyes._

"_That's my son!" Dad yelled even as the mandatory clapping from the spectators ended. "That's my boy! He's got my genes!"_

_Soda was simply yelling and whooping, and he only stopped when he saw Pony grimace up at them, silently asking his father and brother to stop embarrassing him. The teacher organizing the students on the field was looking at them disapprovingly._

_Dad and Soda collapsed back onto the flimsy fold-out chairs, laughing. "I think we mighta just made Mrs Jackson a little angry there, Pepsi-Cola," Dad said, reclining back in his chair and soaking up the pleasant sun._

"_She deserves it," said Soda flippantly. "She doesn't like me, or Pony, and she hated Darry when he was here. I hate _her_."_

"_Don't talk that way about someone, Soda," said Mom. "Hate's a strong word."_

"_So's vodka," said Dad, and Soda sniggered. Darry gave them a sidelong glance; the jokes Dad and Soda found funny were rather strange._

"_He's right though, Mom," said Darry. "She's a right pain up the –"_

"Darry_!"_

"_Backside, Mom."_

"_When can I try vodka?" Soda asked. Darry knew the question was innocent, but it probably was not the wisest thing to say when he had already been told off._

"_Never," said Mom._

"_When you're older," said Dad at the same time._

_Mom gave Dad a disapproving look until he suddenly found his shoelace very interesting._

"_He's just trying to rile you, Mom," said Darry. "Soda doesn't want to try vodka."_

_Mom let the matter drop. Darry knew she knew they were good kids. Soda saw too often the effect alcohol had on his friend Steve Randle's life to actually want to become anything like that. He was too smart. He would try alcohol, certainly, as Darry had done, but he would never drink to the extent Steve's father did, and it was that that scared Mom off alcohol._

"_Dad, can I go see some friends down there?" Soda gestured vaguely as he spoke._

"_Who's down there?"_

"_Steve… er, I see Harry, and Sandy…"_

"_Sandy, eh?" Dad instantly perked up. "Sure thing, kiddo. Keep your tongue to yourself, you hear?"_

_Darry laughed as Soda looked both embarrassed and disgusted at the same time. "Ew, kissing? That's disgusting!" _

"_Poor old Sodapop still believes in cooties," said Darry, and Soda's blush deepened until he mumbled something indecipherable and wandered off._

"_That wasn't very nice, Darry. He's younger than you."_

_Darry rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry if I scar him for life with my horrid remarks..."_

_X X X X _

_Pony ran up the stairs going up through the small stadium towards his family, landing in Soda's vacated seat and hugging Dad. "I ran so fast!" he cried. "I ran faster than a road runner!"_

"_You sure did!" said Mom, in higher spirits now that the teasing had ended. "What type of animal is a road runner?"_

"_I dunno, a horse?" Pony guessed. "But I ran faster than it!"_

"_It's a bird, kiddo," said Dad. He turned to Mom. "You wanna head home? They only have the older kids' races left."_

_Mom nodded and brought her bag up from the ground to sit in her lap. "I think so," she said. "Where did Soda go off to?"_

"_He said he'd be with Steve," said Darry, looking at the blue ribbon shoved into his face by his little brother. "Good on you, Ponyboy."_

"_Steve ain't here today," said Pony._

_Dad blinked. "How do you know? He probably changed his mind, Pony. Soda's with him now."_

"_No, he ain't here today," Pony muttered, his face losing the happiness it had previously exuded. "He hates me. He never comes to track, and I heard Soda invite him. He said I was a stupid kid and he didn't want to watch me."_

"_You ain't a stupid kid, Pony," Dad said. He turned to Darry. "You want to maybe go looking for Pepsi? He said he'd be with Sandy too."_

_Darry nodded and stood, scanning the spectators before he moved down the stairs. He could not see either Sandy or Soda. Who was that other kid Soda mentioned? Harry? As in Harry Warrick? Soda didn't even like him. And why would Sandy be here? She was not a runner and had no younger siblings to watch…_

_Darry was sure he checked everywhere, even the toilets, which he sincerely regretted checking as soon as he stuck half his nose in there. That was what a school on the East Side got you…_

_Darry was so involved with scanning the crowd over again that he almost ran into Mom. "I can't find him," she said simply._

_Okay, now Darry was starting to worry. Soda was neither stupid nor angry at anyone, so he would not run away. He could see none of Soda's friends – and Soda had a _lot _of friends. It came with being so good looking, and at only twelve, he hadn't gained the maturity needed to cast off the "friends" who were using him to climb the social ladder. Darry had been through the same thing, though it could not be denied that Sodapop was a lot more popular than he had been at elementary school. "I haven't seen him or any friends," he said._

_Mom bit her lip in worry that Darry wished he could placate. It was any mother's greatest fear to lose a child, and Darry knew from experience that if any of them were fifteen minutes late home, Mom would already be close to frantic. It was a trait Darry recognized in himself, and so he tried to stay punctual, knowing how she felt if he wasn't. Soda didn't really bother trying too hard; he was always having too much fun to worry about something like curfew if he were at a friend's house, and Pony was simply too vague to notice the passage of time until it was too late. "Your father's looking with Ponyboy up over there," Mom said, pointing up to where Dad was walking with Pony hitching a piggy-back ride on his back._

_Where could Soda have gone?_

_Dimly, Darry heard the cap gun for the next race go off. "I reckon we should ask people if they've seen him."_

_Mom nodded and wasted no time approaching a stranger to question. Mom was formidable when it came to the safety of her sons, and Darry felt oddly sorry for the guy; he could tell by the look on his face that she was glaring at him. Darry smiled slightly and approached a middle aged woman. "Excuse me, but I'm looking for my brother, he's about this tall" – he held up a hand slightly lower than his shoulder – "blonde hair, brown eyes, twelve years old…"_

"_Can't say for certain," said the lady, "but __wouldn't he'd be in the race? Twelve year old four hundred meters… that's what my son's in now."_

_Darry looked up almost automatically as her hand pointed to the track and was about to look back down to say thank you, but no that was not Soda, when he did a double take._

_A very familiar looking blonde form was leading the race by even more than Pony had been leading his. Darry's mouth fell open almost in horror as the track bent and he positively recognized, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was Sodapop in front._

"_Mom!" he yelled, not caring how many heads turned at the universal name – he had the right head turned. Mom came towards him quickly, only to stop dead as she saw what Darry was looking at. _

"_Oh, dear lord…" she muttered. "What is he doing?"_

_Mom began weaving through the people sat around in the sun, heading for the track. Darry waited back, waving his arms to signal to Dad that he had found Soda. Once he was sure he had got the message, he followed Mom down towards the track. _

_Mom ducked under the barrier just as the race ended, ignoring the disapproval of several teachers as she stormed down towards the finish line. Soda had won – won with a surprisingly short time. Darry knew Pony could run, but he never knew Soda could._

_He knew why Mom and Dad didn't let Soda try out for sports, but in all honesty, he didn't look that bad. As Darry followed Mom under the barrier, he could see his little brother more clearly. He was panting, which was a good sign even in itself. Darry had been worried about him _not _panting. In fact, Soda didn't look any worse off than the other race participants._

_Darry could see Soda glow as a teacher handed him a bottle of water and a blue ribbon, patting him on the back. He unscrewed the bottle and drank, but his eyes never left the ribbon. _

"_What were you _thinking_?" Mom said in a voice that was quiet but furious as she came up beside her middle son, Darry running up beside her. Soda looked down guiltily as the cough began. "That was very, very stupid! I hope you realize that!"_

"_Mom…" Darry said, only to be shushed immediately._

"_Soda, I want you to promise not to do that again, all right?" she said, her voice softening. "It's a shame you can't do sports, but we all have tests in life. This is yours, and I know you well enough to know you can control yourself. I'm sorry I shouted, honey; you scared me, okay? Please don't scare me again."_

_Well, that was said better, thought Darry. Soda looked up at her, but said nothing. The cough was continuing. "Mom, he's sorry, all right? Let's just go."_

_Mom bit her lip as Darry put an arm around Soda's shoulder, silently telling him he wasn't alone as they began to walk towards the parking lot. _

_Dad came up with Ponyboy still on his back. Darry could hear them converse in soft tones behind him, but he couldn't hear what was being said. He and Soda stopped as the teacher who had handed Soda his ribbon came into their path._

"_You're a very good running family!" he said brightly. "Son, you should go out for track more often. There's a bright future in it for you!"_

X X X X

**A/N**: I split this chapter into two parts, next one coming ASAP.

I have no brothers and am afraid I don't know at what ages boys go through their growth spurts, but I hope I got it right when I said Soda (who is twelve) is up to a bit below Darry's shoulder (Darry is fifteen). If anyone thinks that's wrong, telling me is absolutely fine; I'm looking for improvement!

Also, just thought I might mention - I said here Soda was beating his race by more than Pony had been beating his. I'm thinking that if Pony and Soda were to race each other today, Pony would win substantially, since he has been training and Soda hasn't. I reckon Pony got better with age as he started training, but I can't see a nine year old training, so here Pony was relying solely on talent.


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N**: This chapter follows the last one directly, so if by any chance you skipped that, I suggest you go back and read it. Then again, this is the half with all the action, so if you're only reading for that, go right ahead!

Thanks so much to both readers and reviewers! You guys are all so incredible!

X X X X

_Darry could not see Soda's face; it was turned towards the ground, almost in shame. The blue ribbon he had been staring at so happily earlier was now crunched in his fist, and he tension in his shoulders was clear to Darry, whose arm was still around his little brother._

_The teacher moved off on some other business, and Soda brushed off Darry's arm, walking faster to get to the car first. Darry bit his lip in worry and hoped Soda would not take Mom's obvious disappointment too seriously. Darry was angry at her. He thought Soda had done brilliantly today, and if she could not see that, well, that was her loss. But the reality of the situation had already broken through to Soda; that much was obvious. _

_Darry continued to walk slightly ahead of his parents and Ponyboy but did not bother trying to catch up with Soda. His middle brother had reached the street beside the track on which their car was parked and tried the door. Finding it locked, he turned, leaning against the car, waiting for Mom or Dad to come and unlock it. Darry could see he was still coughing, and he hoped it would stay as simple coughing._

"_I don't know why he did it; I never encouraged him!" Darry could hear his parents talking behind him, trying to figure out what would have driven Soda to enter the race without having to actually ask him. Mom had assumed Dad had encouraged him, and Dad thought Steve or another of Soda's friends had done so._

"_I'm not blaming you, Darrel, I just want to get to the bottom of this so it doesn't happen again."_

"_I know, Elsie…"_

_Darry rolled his eyes in sheer frustration and turned to face his family. "It's obvious why he did it," he said abruptly. "You tell Pony and me all the time that we ought to try hard in all things, including sports. You congratulate Pony on all the track awards he wins and then turn around and tell Soda he's not allowed to do it! It confuses and upsets him. He did it because he wants you to be proud of him too, not just me and Pony."_

_There was a moment's stunned silence as Darry's words sunk in. Ponyboy, now holding Mom's hand, had turned back to watching the races. When no reply was forthcoming, Darry rolled his eyes again and walked over to the car._

"_Hey, little buddy," Darry said softly. Soda was still looking down. "Can I see your ribbon?"_

_Soda looked up almost mistrustfully before nodding and handing the ribbon to Darry. It was simple; just a blue strip of cloth with the race details and the number "1" stamped onto it, but Darry understood what it meant. "You were real fast, Soda," he said. He wanted to congratulate him for the achievement, but what his parents had said held truth. Darry knew Soda should not have entered the race. _

_Soda tried to stifle a cough as Mom, Dad and Ponyboy arrived. Darry gave Soda back his ribbon, which Pony swapped immediately for his. Mom and Dad said nothing, Dad simply unlocking the car so they could get in.__ Darry sat between his two brothers in the back seat._

"_I didn't know you were so fast, Soda!" Pony said enthusiastically, the high from his own win not yet worn off. "Where'd you learn to run like that?"_

"_You shouldn't have done that, Sodapop," said Dad, taking the inhaler that had been in the glove compartment and handing it over to Soda in the back seat. Darry knew Soda was now in big trouble; Dad never called him by his real name unless that was the case._

"_Leave him alone, Dad," said Darry as Soda took the medication without comment._

"_This has nothing to do with you, Darrel," said Dad, starting the car. "You need to let us be the parents, all right? And unfortunately, that sometimes means pointing out where your child went wrong." Dad began to drive out onto the road, heading for home. Out of the corner of his eye, Darry saw Soda shut his eyes and rub his chest. The pain seemed to be starting._

"_But why?" Darry cried. "He was so good out there! Can't you just give him some credit?"_

"_You don't understand what you are talking about," said Dad. "One day when you have children of your own, you'll have to tell them right from wrong too, and that varies from person to person. We don't let Ponyboy go on sleepovers, but we let you and Soda."_

"_Yeah, why can't I go?" Pony cried. "I'm old enough!"_

_Darry ignored his youngest brother. "Fine, then, tell Soda he can't do it again but this one time was real good!"_

"_I don't need to explain my reasoning to you, Darry, all right? Now could we please just drive the rest of the way in silence?"_

_Darry glared at the back of his father's head but knew the argument was lost. Soda had not said one thing in his defense for the entire debate, and Darry was worried that Dad's words might have hurt more than he was letting on. It had been less than an hour ago that they had been joking together and screaming support for Pony's win…_

_Soda was leaning against the door of the car, his face a mask of careful control and a hand still pressed to his chest. He was paying for the toll he had put his body through; it was obvious in the way his eyes were shut and his jaw clenched. Darry put a hand on his shoulder and Soda's eyes cracked open a fraction, coming to fix on his own. They were clouded with pain._

_This minute contact seemed to shatter Soda's resolve, and his mouth opened in a silent cry. Darry could tell by the odd jerks that racked Soda's frame every couple of seconds that he was fighting his body's automatic attempts to cough. "Dad!" he cried._

"_I don't want to discuss this, Darry; I've already told you that!"_

"_No, Dad, he's having an attack!" _

_Dad swore and the car swerved slightly as he tried to look back before realizing how foolish that was. Mom's head whipped around, her eyes immediately searching for and finding what was wrong with her middle son. She took off her seatbelt and leaned over, across Darry. "Soda, honey, I know it hurts, but I need you to breathe for me sweetheart, come on… just take one breath…"_

_Darry watched Soda's eyes open and fix upon Mom's, taking in her encouraging smile. He grabbed the door handle as he took in one carefully measured breath, using it to anchor himself through the pain._

_That one breath proved to be his undoing. Darry watched helplessly as the coughs started again, only this time, they were not the small, breathy and pain free coughs he had been having earlier. These were deep yet still ineffective, preventing him from getting the air he needed so badly. His eyes screwed up once more, but not before Darry saw the trace of moisture in them._

"_Just think of Mickey Mouse, Soda. He's beautiful, isn't he? Imagine him there, in his meadow, the green of spring upon the earth and the gold of dawn mixing together behind him, and he's all yours. You're there with him; you're about to take him for a ride, just you and Mickey, galloping off into the distance…"_

_Darry had always known Mom was nothing short of a superwoman when it came to calming Soda, but either he had forgotten just how good she was at creating images of peace in the three or so years it had been since Soda had an attack this bad, or she was outdoing herself. Darry could feel himself shaking, could hear Pony yelling, could see Dad swipe an arm across his face, but Mom prevailed. Mom always prevailed._

_It wasn't enough. Darry had hoped that as Soda's face began to relax the attack was wearing off, had expected his coughs to subside and his breathing to resume a normal pattern. His coughs _were _subsiding. He would make it._

_Soda's eyes rolled suddenly before shutting, and Darry grabbed him before he fell forwards onto Dad's seat. Mom swore, something that almost scared Darry more than Soda fainting. If Mom swore, she was scared; and if Mom was scared, there was reason for Darry to be._

"_What happened?" Dad yelled on top of Ponyboy, who had started crying and shouting for Soda. Darry had forgotten how badly Pony handled Soda's attacks over the years. In Pony's mind, Soda was some superhero who should not get sick._

"_Turn this car around, Darrel; we're going to the hospital," Mom said in a businesslike tone. She was the one who handled emergencies well, and she seemed to handle them by distancing herself. Darry wished desperately at that point that he could do that. "Soda passed out. Is he breathing at all?"_

_Darry pulled Soda closer to him as Dad pulled the car into a sharp U-turn and put a hand in front of his nose and mouth, waiting a few moments. He felt panic rear in his heart when he felt nothing. "Mom, he ain't breathing! What do we do? He's never gotten like this before!"_

"_DARRY! I don't need this right now!" The pressure was affecting Mom now, too. Darry thought how odd it was that the smallest things were reaching his thoughts the cle__arest._

_Mom did something totally unexpected then, clambering over the gear stick and middle compartment to sit on the floor of the back seat. She directed Darry and Pony to lay Soda flat along their laps, removing his seatbelt too. Darry did as he was told without question. He was scared, more scared than he had ever been in his life, but he trusted his mother implicitly. She had taught him that much over the years. _

_Soda's knees were bent on his seat, held there by Darry, his head now resting upon one of Ponyboy's thighs. Darry didn't blame Pony for crying; though he himself wasn't making as much noise as Pony, he could feel the moisture upon his cheeks as surely as he could feel his brother's limp body across his lap._

_Mom leaned over Soda's face, pinching his nose and holding his jaw open. Pony looked up at Darry with confusion written in his eyes as he saw his mother breathe life-giving air into his brother's body. Darry did not say anything, scared beyond belief to break Mom's concentration, already worried __that the fast driving Dad was doing would harm his unrestrained mother and brother before they even got to the hospital._

_He didn't know how many times Mom breathed for Soda; all he knew was that it didn't seem to be helping. Sodapop was still alive, but Darry knew if Mom stopped it would all be over; he still was not breathing independently by the time Dad pulled up the car illegally in front of the doors to the emergency room. Darry noticed dimly as his father got out if the car and ran, alone, into the building for help, but he was still focused on willing Soda into breathing._

_Mom was starting to sweat, her body becoming exhausted after too long blowing air out. Darry could see the shaking of her hand as she brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face, but continued her self appointed task without complaint. Dad was suddenly beside the car again with a bunch of people who had brought a stretcher along with them, as well as several items Darry could not even name, let alone hope to know how to use. The door was opened and Darry slid himself out from under Soda and moved out of the way. He could still watch what was happening inside the car through the windscreen, and he watched as Mom breathed once more into Soda before helping them lift him out and onto the stretcher. She opened the door for Pony and got out after him, leaning against the car for a few moments to catch her breath._

_The doctors were already working on Soda. Darry had seen a lot of emergency treatments for asthma, but this was unfamiliar to him. Somebody was carefully feeding a tube down __Soda's throat, checking its placement before connecting the tube to what looked like a large plastic package that was full of air. One doctor held this, squeezing it in time with a normal person's breathing. Darry suddenly realized this was the only way Soda could breathe now. That hunk of plastic was the only reason his brother was even still alive._

_He heard the doctors talking to each other about erratic pulses and unpredictable conditions, __and then one said something about the ICU. Darry could not take it any more. He stumbled off a few steps before collapsing and being violently sick on the bitumen. He knew now why his parents were so strict about Sodapop exercising. It didn't make any sense; he had seemed fine twenty minutes ago!_

_He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Dad's red-rimmed eyes. Darry stared almost in horror. He had never seen Dad cry before. "Is Soda going to be okay?" Darry asked, needing to hear the words. Behind his father, he could see the doctors wheel Soda inside. _

"_They don't know," said Dad, his voice breaking once more as more tears came. "I'm going to him; I'm not going to leave him. I just wanted to tell you that you were right; this is all our fault. He never would have raced if we had been a little more encouraging…"_

"_I'm sorry, Dad."_

"Sorry_?" Dad cried, and Darry saw a couple of tears escape their prison. "What are you sorry for? You were right! I was so blinded by fear that this would happen that… that this _did _happen! Lord, Soda's only twelve years old!"_

_Darry was silent as he watched Mom and Pony follow the doctors and Soda into the hospital. It was frightening to see his dad lose control. He was always happy, always reassuring everyone that everything would work out. Now, it seemed that Darry was the one who had to calm Dad down if they were going to be able to see Soda, and he found it was a role he did not relish. It was scary, being the one in charge. He wished his dad would take the overwhelming feelings of responsibility off his shoulders so he, Darry, could cry too. "Come on, Dad," he urged regardless of his own feelings. "It ain't your fault; you didn't know this would happen. Come on, we need to go in…"_

_Dad seemed to have completely lost all semblance of control. "I don't want to see him like that!" he cried. "Not with the knowledge of what I've done!"_

_It was then that Darry realized Sodapop was a lot more like their father than he originally realized. Dad was strong, optimistic, as much a Superman to Darry as Soda was to Pony. Then, like what often happened to Pony's hero, something happened, and reality hit home, wiping out rational thought._

"_Dad! We need to go in; I know it's hard, but _please_! He's your son, and he needs you! _I _need you! Please, _please _just stop this."_

_Dad took another couple of deep breaths before bringing a teary face up out of his hands. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm proud of you, Darry. You always remember your brothers' needs first. I… I wish I could do that."_

_Darry was silent as Dad got to his feet. "Come on," he said, holding out a hand to Darry. "Let's go see Soda."_

_Darry saw something blowing along the ground and bent to pick it up. He turned the blue strip of cloth over in his hand, reading the inscription._

12 year old boys 400 meter sprint

#1

X X X X

Darry shot up from the couch, breathing heavily as he tried to calm his racing heart. He put a hand to his forehead, unsurprised when it came back drenched with sweat. He didn't want to have to be the strong one! For that dream was a simple retelling of the time it had all started, back when he was fifteen, when he had come to the realization that sometimes he could not rely on his parents to always be there. Perhaps the revelation had come too late, for he was still not used to the idea of being the strong one. Or perhaps it was not something one ever got used to, just tried his best to be strong, and hide the cracks from the ones he was trying to protect when they appeared.

He opened his eyes slowly, but instead of seeing the colourful blanket that had been provided by Mrs Mathews, Darry's mind filled with images of the room they had walked into, the moans of pain coming from one corner, the people curled up on the hard seats as they tried their best to wait until a doctor was available. He saw the grim face of the nurse when they told her who they were looking for, remembered her brisk step as she led them into the ICU.

Darry tried to stop the images that assailed him, but they kept coming. Soda was still unconscious – had Darry really thought doctors were perfect until that point? – already connected to a whole heap of machines, with doctors around him trying to decide what else they needed to connect. Nurses were speaking to him in cheery tones, explaining what they were doing to him, even though it was so obvious he could not hear them.

Darry remembered the grim-faced doctor that came up to what remained of the family; remembered Mom trying to urge Ponyboy to go out of the room while they heard the news; smiled as he remembered the way Pony had steadfastly refused. He remembered the crushing hopelessness he had felt as the doctor told them there was relatively little they could do. Sodapop was severely asthmatic, and though they could keep him alive for now, there was always the chance he would reject the ventilator, and as it was, there did not look to be signs that he would ever improve any.

Darry was jerked back to the present as Ponyboy mumbled in his sleep. He knew that, this time, he had not been crying in his sleep, but he felt the wetness on his cheeks pretty surely now.

Darry brushed away the tears and stood up from the fold-out couch. He needed to take on a position he had first tried five years ago. He needed to be the strong one.

X X X X

**A/N: **You know, I think that was the longest chapter yet! In which case, my normal request for reviews has more backup. Long chapter, and fast too; please reward me by REVIEWING! Ahh, I'm so demanding!

Oh, and anyone who thinks Darry was too old to first be realizing his parents weren't invincible, I am sixteen and have just discovered that myself!


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N**: Spent too long in the cold beside a river with a freezing breakneck wind, so I got too cold and now I can't get warm, so I spent the day writing instead of school! Problem? I have two exams today. Meh.

Thanks so much if you reviewed! It makes my life. Love you lurkers too! I know you're there!

X X X X

Steve growled softly to himself. Charlie was on his lunch break, and he had been put in front of the till. This was his least favourite part of the day, especially after all the time spent fixing Tim's car had resulted in a backlog of three smaller repair jobs that should only have taken him a couple of hours each. He would have to stay late tonight. Lord, he thought, he was not even supposed to be working on a Sunday! He toyed idly with the idea of quitting and joining a gas station over on the West Side; after all, this was the second time in a very short period he had been called in on a day off. This old dump would be buried; he was not being boastful when he said people only came here because he was the best, like girls only going to the Black Cat because Soda was so good looking. The only difference between them was that Soda seemed blissfully unaware of the effect he had on women. Steve knew very well the effect he had on cars.

He knew he would never quit. As angry at the boss as he was at that moment, he still liked his job, and he would never become a mechanic anywhere even remotely Socy, not after what they had done to the Curtises.

His eyes narrowed to slits as the bell atop the door to the shop rang and two Socs entered. He did not care whether or not they were involved with the arson; he hated them all. And these two, though it simply could have been from a casual glance on the side of the road too long ago to remember properly, looked oddly familiar.

One was long and lanky, with limbs that looked too big for his body; the other even skinnier, with hair oilier than Steve's or any other greaser he had met. But Steve knew this guy's grease was not the type that came from a jar. Both were wearing those stupid pretentious looking madras jackets that were popular amongst the wealthy, even though it was quite warm outside. Steve screwed up his nose in distaste.

Socs at the DX were certainly not something unheard of, in fact, they were about as common as the greasers. These two looked perfectly at ease with their surroundings, though they were conversing in quiet, almost nervous tones, something about regaining credibility with "him". They stopped at the counter, one leaning an elbow on it while the other asked for two Pepsis. Steve kept half an eye on them as he turned to the fridge behind him. There was something about these two that Steve really did not trust, and it was more than the simple fact that they were Socs. His mind was whispering a warning, and over the years, Steve had learned to obey his instincts. He glanced briefly down under the counter, checking that they had not taken the bag Tim had left him, even though he knew the chances of them managing that theft were next to zero.

He glared at them as he handed the two bottles over. "How much do I –" said the skinny, greasy one. Steve could almost smell the oil on his breath. "What is your problem?" Hm. He seemed to have finally noticed that Steve really did not like him. "Listen, grease. Just because you won the rumble doesn't mean your business won't go down the toilet if we stop shopping here, so I suggest you get some respect."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Y'all weren't even at the rumble," he said with a hint of bravado. "Too scared?"

The lanky Soc's lip curled. "You want to know? Truth is we were all told it'd be a tiny one. That was the idea with having it round our side. Half of us were told not to show, because the greasers wouldn't! Then it turned out you did show up. It was a simple miscalculation. If the numbers had been even, we would have won, no doubt!"

"Miscalculation? That wasn't a miscalculation; that was just stupid. We had double what you had. Face it, y'all are just cowards."

The first Soc's scowl deepened and he took the Pepsis. "Forget what I said before; we ain't paying for these!"

They turned and made to walk towards the door, but Steve's voice stopped them. "I'll just report you for shoplifting, then."

Steve had known these two were cowards. They froze in their tracks, turned, and one slammed a dollar bill onto the counter. Not even waiting for the change, they walked out the door.

They had no car parked in the DX lot, or if they did, it was around the corner. As Steve counted out the change that should have gone to the Socs and put it in his own pocket, he glared at their retreating backs. There was something so familiar about the way they moved, and it was eating at his mind. Suddenly, it clicked. A dark road, four running from a fifth figure upon the ground, Pony's screams beside him, his own shouts echoing in his brain.

Steve let out a roar of rage and ran for the door to the shop. He would kill them. He would kill them with his own bare hands.

X X X X

"Darrel Curtis?"

Darry looked up. He had been so focused on his destination that he had not noticed that strange doctor from the previous night approach him. Pony stopped beside him. "Yes?" Darry said. If this turned out to be those idiot policemen again…

"Ponyboy, I presume?" questioned the middle aged man. Pony nodded and the other smiled a greeting. It was good that the doctor gave acknowledgement to Pony – it was too often that the old forgot the importance of the young – but Darry really wanted to go and see his brother, not exchange pleasantries. He had slept longer than he had intended to, a surprise considering the awful nightmare he had had, and he and Ponyboy only woke at around two in the afternoon. "Henry Falkens, I don't know if you remember me; I'm Soda's doctor." Darry shook he hand offered. He knew hospitals were slow places, but this guy had to set a record. "I just need a quick word with you about your brother. It's important."

Pony looked at Darry, shock written across his face. Darry continued to stare at the doctor, but his face had become several shades paler. "Don't worry, there's nothing wrong with Soda, in fact he's made a rather remarkable recovery. I actually need to talk to you about Ponyboy. I'll only take five minutes of your time."

The twin expressions on the two brothers' faces of shocked horror changed simultaneously to looks of confusion. They followed Falkens a short way down the white corridor into an office on the left. The brothers took seats as he doctor reached for a large envelope on the bookshelf behind him. He sat in the large chair pushed back from the desk, opening the oversized envelope. "I ordered some X rays earlier today just to be certain that the cracked rib was healing in the right place as well as checking on smoke damage, and I noticed something interesting."

Darry held the photographs carefully at the edges. He could clearly see where the cracked rib was repairing itself, but apart from that, nothing stood out as remarkable to his eyes. And besides, wasn't this about Pony?

"What's this got to do with me?" Pony asked, as though reading Darry's mind.

"Well, you can see when you look closely the tissue that has been the most affected by the smoke, but you can also see old smoke damage. I asked Soda if he had ever smoked in his life, because that is the most obvious conclusion. He said no, but he also said that Ponyboy here smokes quite a bit."

Darry's eyes slid slowly, mistrustfully, up from the X ray pictures in his hands to Falkens' face. Everyone in their neighbourhood smoked, with the exceptions of Darry and Soda and a few of the very old and very young, but that didn't mean the state didn't think letting a fourteen year old smoke was evidence of bad parenting. If this doctor told the state this, then Darry was going to have to have a serious talk with Soda about keeping his trap shut. "Where are you going with this?" Darry asked quietly. He was tired and stressed; he was not in the mood for anyone having a go at his parenting skills.

"Well, how much do you smoke, Ponyboy?"

Pony glanced at Darry, who nodded mutely. "A pack a day, I guess," he mumbled. He was bringing the number down slightly; that was how much Darry wanted him to cut down to. He was in enough trouble from a random stranger; he didn't need anything from Darry on top of it.

"Hm. Well, I think you need to have a serious talk together, both of you. Smoking is a very dangerous habit, and I am not saying this because I am a self righteous doctor. The fact that a direct relative has a serious lung condition suggests it may run in the family, and it may be that you, Ponyboy, are at greater risk of falling seriously ill than the average smoker."

"Excuse me," said Darry coldly, "but that ain't any of your business. I know tons of people who smoke, and I've never seen any of them sick. My parents smoked for thirty years, maybe even more, I don't know, and _they _never got sick! Just because a couple of people have gotten a bit ill doesn't mean it'll happen to my brother, and I don't appreciate you dissecting our lives!"

Pony stared at Darry, slightly shocked at the anger he was dealing out to Falkens. The doctor was having none of it. "You parents smoked for thirty years and they never got sick, eh? Have you never looked at your middle brother?"

Darry was silent, wide eyed. "Are you blaming my parents for making my brother sick?" he said. If his tone had been cold before, it was pure ice now. He was retaining his quiet volume, but Ponyboy knew if the older man didn't seriously reevaluate his position, he would be bearing the brunt of a serious rampage from Darry.

"I am not blaming you parents, but I am saying that they may well have caused it!" said Falkens, unfazed by Darry's barely contained rage. Darry opened his mouth to retort, but the doctor cut him off. "Before you begin to write off what I am saying, try listening! There are not many who think smelling the smoke of others is dangerous, but I most certainly do! Those X rays show the proof of old smoke damage to the lung tissue, and I would be willing to wager that Soda would be a lot better off if he were not constantly exposed to the smoke lingering on Pony's clothes, or breath, or body, or wherever! For the sake of his own health, Soda's and even yours, I would strongly recommend that Pony give up smoking."

Pony almost felt physically sick. He remained seated even as Darry practically leapt out of his chair and left the room, just thinking. He knew what Falkens had said made sense, and he knew Darry knew it too, deep down. That was why Darry had banned smoking in the house by anybody, and that was why Mom and Dad had always gone outside to do it when they had been alive. That was why Darry had yelled at him when he came in too soon after a cigarette the other day. You didn't need a cigarette to have the smoke from the burning house affect you; Pony remembered the tight, uncomfortable feeling he had had in his chest when they got out of the car, and didn't that mean you wouldn't need a cigarette to smell the smoke on someone else? Pony would not know; he smoked too much himself to even notice it on anyone else, but it would make sense.

Falkens was still sitting silently on the other side of the desk, putting Soda's X rays back into their envelope. "I want to quit," said Pony quietly. "I'll do it. I knew I should have anyway… it's been affecting my track."

After the way Darry had treated Falkens, Pony fully expected a less than cordial response, but he was surprised. "Good on you. I think your brother Darrel knows you need to; he's just having trouble coming to terms with it all."

Pony nodded and stood. "It's very difficult to quit cold turkey when you smoke that much," said Falkens before Pony could leave. "I am going to keep Soda in here one more night just to be sure. Use that time to cut down slightly, but don't delude yourself; quitting is a hard road."

"Right," muttered Pony, opening the door. "Thanks."

Soda's doctor sure was weird, decided Ponyboy as he went in search of Darry. Weird, but nice. He was trying to keep his mind off the one thing that was like a constant itch in the back of his skull. Why was it that as soon as he had dedicated his efforts to quitting, he really needed a smoke? The world was not fair.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor Pony. Quitting sucks, not that I would know, like I mentioned an A/N earlier, I'm an utter prude, and I've never tried a cigarette. I'm asking my grandfather about how it feels to quit.

And surprisingly, passive smoking was not regarded as dangerous for quite some time. Does not make sense to me; I reckon if it smells not like normal air, it can't be good. Please forgive my mild smoker bashing in this chapter, but I really need Pony to quit.

Please forgive Darry. He's worried about his house, his money, his brothers and he's plagued by nightmares. He has a right to be a clutbeef.

My chapters seem to be getting longer… so now I shall shamelessly beg for reviews. Like I always do ;) Cal has 0 pride.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N**: Well, I moved. Anyone who has moved before knows how hard that is, and my back has been killing me! I wrote most of this last week or so, but didn't have the energy to type it until now. My exams have also finished, but start again in another two or three weeks.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed; wow, that was a while ago! I'm sorry for the wait again!

X X X X

Ponyboy scratched his forearm almost automatically, trying to concentrate on the almost one sided conversation Soda was having with his brothers. He felt like a failure. He had not had a smoke for two hours now, and already he was overcome with desire for a cigarette. He had gone this long without smoking hundreds of times, but now that he had it in his mind that he would smoke no more regularly than every six hours today, it was all he could think about. The feelings of depression were almost consuming him, especially since his normal anti-depressant was smoking.

He felt disgusting. Just last night he had become homeless, one brother had almost died while the other had to find the money to house and feed both himself and Soda. Lord, he had it easy! He didn't have a right to complain! He couldn't even give his sick brother the courtesy of his attention.

Pony was used to Soda's speedy recoveries, so walking into the room to see him sitting up, oxygen tube gone, and talking to Darry like there was no tomorrow had not surprised him. Soda would get sick real fast, stay that way until his lungs could hold enough air to properly absorb the medicine from the nebulizer, then heal completely within a matter of a couple of hours. He had then been forced to sit there with no one to talk to and nothing to do; Two-Bit, until Darry and Pony had arrived and sent him home, had been sprawled in a chair against the wall, sleeping off the rest of his hangover. Soda was too nice to wake him, and he was never one to handle boredom particularly well.

Unbeknownst to Pony, Darry was also having trouble concentrating on Soda. His mind was occupied with numbers, numbers that could ruin them. He thought of the numbers on his bank statement. He thought of the numbers on the bill for the emergency room. He thought of the numbers on the bills he had yet to pay from the house he had no longer: the electricity, water, gas… the list went on. He thought of the numbers he had not yet seen on the bills he knew were coming: the house repairs, the furniture he would have to replace, and the rest of Soda's hospital bills.

Darry pulled at the fabric of his jeans in nervous habit. He was glad Soda was not looking at him; he was smart enough to recognize the tenseness of his jaw. Soda had not asked him about the house yet. He certainly wasn't looking forward to that conversation…

He suddenly realized that Soda had stopped speaking, and he followed his gaze over his shoulder. Standing there, hand just poised to knock upon the open door, was a woman Darry knew very well by now. "Hello, Mrs Parks," he said, trying to mask the shock and fear he felt at the sight of the social worker. No. _Please no_. They couldn't take his brothers.

"Hello, boys," said the woman. "I'm sorry for intruding here, but I'm afraid it's the only place I know I can find you. I hope you don't mind."

Mrs Parks had been fair to them over the years. She seemed to genuinely believe Darry was a good guardian, and had readily forgiven Pony's slip in marks after Johnny and Dally's deaths, on the condition they picked up after sufficient time. But loving your little brothers was not enough. High marks were not all that defined a decent guardian. Darry did not have the finances to convince the state not to put Soda and Pony in a boys' home, not any longer. He'd fight to the ends of the earth to keep them, this he knew, but he was not kidding himself. If God was there, now would be a great time to show it. "I don't mind," he said quietly, in a voice that could only be described as defeated. "It's your job." He moved from his chair and joined Pony and Soda sitting on the edge of the bed.

"So," said Mrs Parks, taking out a clipboard and pen as she sat down in the chair Darry had just vacated. Soda looked at each of his brothers, seeing his own barely contained fear mirrored in their eyes. "Your house was burned down." She glanced up, her gaze half sympathetic, half stern.

"The back half," said Darry. "Bedrooms and stuff."

Mrs Parks nodded, writing on her clipboard. "You were there, weren't you?" she said to Soda. "Where were you two?"

"Er, with some friends," said Darry, perhaps a touch too quickly for his liking. Well, it was the truth, just not all of it.

The social worker seemed to be almost trying to stare him down, the way she was looking at him over the rim of those green glasses she always wore. She was not too old, probably between forty and forty five, but she dressed like the elderly ladies who sat about town complaining in loud voices about the behavior of youth these days. It came with the job. "The police are treating it as arson," she said quietly.

Soda looked down. He didn't want anyone to get sent to prison, regardless of whether or not they deserved it. He had seen what prison did to Dally. He knew he had to tell her what happened; otherwise it would be Darry's neck on the line, but it did not mean he had to like it. "Yeah, it was arson," he said. "I heard them talking… they didn't know I was home."

"So it was not lit because of an accident on your part?"

Soda blinked. Was she blaming him? "No!"

Her eyebrows rose. "I'm not blaming you, Sodapop; I just need to know for the sake of your case." She flipped to another page in her clipboard. "Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yeah," said Darry, relieved he at least had this going for him. "A friend's mother offered us to stay with them as long as we need. It's good for her," he added, hoping to make it sound less like he was just filching food from a kind lady's table. "She has a younger daughter, and it's much easier for her to know there's always going to be someone around. Ponyboy and I stayed there last night; Soda's got one more night here" – Soda looked up sharply at his brother, mild outrage expressed on his features – "but she's fine for him to stay too."

There was another long silence in which Mrs Parks stared at Darry. He held her gaze, but was beginning to get the impression she did not like him so much anymore. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but you're being called to a hearing again. Your friends certainly weren't beneficial to your cause the last time."

Pony looked down at his hands in despair. Not again! He wasn't stupid; he knew their arguments would be a hell of a lot less strong now that they had been called twice. Soda was staring at the social worker, eyes that were normally dancing suddenly dulled. "What does that mean?" He tried to focus on breathing regularly as fear mounted. He knew he wasn't still here because he was sick; he was still here because there was a huge chance he would _get _sick.

"A friendship with Dallas Winston… you boys can trust me when I tell you that does not impress the authorities. I sincerely hope you are staying with someone of high moral groundings now; are you even aware of the fact that Steve Randle was arrested this morning?"

"_What_?" Soda cried. Darry put a hand on his shoulder, silently asking him to be quiet. Soda ignored him. This could not be _happening_! Why the hell would Steve get arrested? "How come? And how do you know?"

Mrs Parks pursed her lips, and her gaze hardened even further. "I don't like your attitude, Sodapop. Remember what is in my power to do." Soda looked away. "If you must know, your friend was arrested for assaulting two other boys. In light of everything that has happened, I am working with the police on this case, and I must say that I am not impressed."

_Soda, you idiot_, thought Darry. What had made him explode like that, to a _social worker_, no less! He was usually smarter than that. Not that Darry could blame him; he felt like punching the woman, ethics be damned. "We ain't staying with Steve," he said. "Two – Keith Mathews. He goes to Pony's school; it's his mother that offered us."

She wrote this and looked back at him with eyes that were suddenly sympathetic. "If you give me the number and address now I should be able to set up a meeting with the family tomorrow," she said. "But until I get a meeting, I cannot allow Ponyboy to stay there. It will probably be only one night, but I'm going to have to put him into foster care."

Darry put his head in his hands. That was it; he was not good enough. _I'm sorry, Pony_…

X X X X

**A/N**: God, poor Darry. Reviews are always appreciated, and I have a question that someone should be able to answer – how many cigarettes in a pack? It would probably help, considering what I'm writing about Pony… should have found out earlier. Theories, too! Haha, you'll never guess what'll happen at the trial thing… Thanks for reading!


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N**: Thanks again to reviewers! You make my sunrise golden 

X X X X

Ponyboy sat in the passenger seat of the social worker's car, quietly watching the trees as they flew past the window. _It's just one night_, he thought to himself. He repeated it in his head as a mantra, trying to save his mind from drifting to worst-case scenarios as it was wont to do. _Just for a night, just for a night, just for a night…_

It was not the thought of staying with a foster family that was scaring him. What he kept telling himself was true; it _was _just one night. He could handle that easily. No, what scared him was what it represented. Ponyboy did not rob stores. He did not get drunk and beat up other kids, and neither did Soda. Lots of kids who lived with their parents did all that and more, and yet here was the state, telling him his brother was not good enough. Pony knew that if his parents had been alive through all this, the state would not even consider investigating Mrs Mathews and her home. She had done so much for them already, and now she had to take an afternoon off work to attend the interview and try to help them out.

He thought of Johnny. The kicked puppy, the kid who went home every day to abuse and torment. Nobody from the state checked up on him, and so nobody had saved him. No, in the opinion of the state, what made a good parent was not feeding and clothing a kid, making sure they stayed out of trouble and did there homework, loving them and caring for them. What made a good parent was not everything Darry was to him and Soda. What made a good parent was blood.

In the eyes of the state, Johnny's parents were wonderful, Steve was the son of the Father of the Year, Dally's dad had been loving and supportive and Bob Sheldon's folks may as well have had degrees in child psychology. But Darry was some layabout who kept them only out of necessity, someone who needed to be watched at every turn for the good of the minors he was caring for.

"It's just one night, Ponyboy," said Mrs Parks, breaking into his thoughts as she evidently noticed his sour expression.

Pony just continued to stare out the window. "If my parents were alive, and the house burned down, and we didn't have a friend's place to go to, would you come investigate?" He turned to her, awaiting her response, but her eyes spoke more than words ever could.

X X X X

Darry pulled the truck up outside Tulsa's newest housing block. He was here several minutes early; he had not been able to sleep much the night before, so he could simply sit here for now, thinking.

For once, he was not thinking about bills. He was not worrying about how Pony may have coped that night in the foster home, nor how Soda may have coped alone in the hospital, probably stressing about Pony. He was just thinking how lucky he was to have his brothers.

Maybe he was going crazy, but as the early morning light bathed the dirty ground around his truck and made it golden, he saw the positives, something Soda was always telling him he needed to focus more on. That first dream had been horrid. He did not even want to imagine a life without Ponyboy. He smiled now, though, as he sat back from the steering wheel and remembered that Mom _hadn't _gotten an abortion. Pony was alive, alive to give Darry a reason to get up in the morning, something to work for. Ponyboy was going to do some great things in his life, and everybody knew it. Darry's smile slipped slightly as he remembered their fight right after Soda had been jumped. Yes, perhaps he did pressure Pony too much. He did it because he loved him. And that thought brought his smile right back out again.

His second dream had been even scarier. Both had been of a time when one of his brothers could have died, but Darry knew Pony was no longer at risk of being aborted. Soda was always at risk, something that he had been painfully reminded of mere hours before having the nightmare. But even that dream contained some good. Darry had not thought about Soda's hidden talent for years. Now he did think about it, he realized he had not let his mind create any type of excuse for what Soda had done. He had pushed it to the back of his mind, ignoring it, ever since he had watched his little brother be taken to the ICU. He let his mind wander freely now. It seemed safe to do it here in the early hours, out where he could see nobody he knew the name of. Soda certainly was a good runner. The only thing that separated him from Pony was luck, luck that he had been the one to get sick, while Pony could still live to fulfill his potential. Darry sighed, and his eyes drifted downwards to stare, for some unfathomable reason, at the top of the steering wheel. He knew right then that he pressured Pony too much, and at the same time didn't give Soda enough of a chance.

He turned his head towards the passenger side of the car. The box was there, sitting innocently on the floor where one's feet were supposed to go. Darry took the thing Soda had risked everything to save and opened the lid. Most of the documents were boring; birth and death certificates, guardianship certificates, Darry and Soda's work contracts, but there, at the bottom, was something special.

Darry had seen Soda put it in here, not even two weeks after they had heard the news that rent their world apart and scattered it across the far, ever expanding reaches of the universe. He never told his little brother he had been caught, because he knew Soda would react badly. He had wanted this to be between himself and his dead parents; Darry knew Soda well enough to be sure of that.

He held the blue ribbon almost lovingly in his fingers. Yes, he knew this meant the world to Soda. It was so much more than a won race.

His brothers were the reason he was here. He went to work only because of his love for them. He shoved the box under the seat again, the ribbon tucked back inside it. It was time to do his job.

Almost as soon as he reached the houses, he was intercepted by his boss. "Glad you showed up today!" he said, in an almost excited voice – well, as excited as a forty-something year old overweight father of two could sound. "I didn't think you would. Heard your house burnt down."

Urgh. He just had to remind him, didn't he… "Yes," said Darry stiffly. He didn't want anyone's pity, not today, not ever. He was just too damned tired.

"Can I ask what you're doing about insurance claims?"

For a guy with such a great head for business, Mr Keate was surprisingly tactless. He was the boss, for Christ's sake, he knew how much Darry was being paid. He also knew Darry was pretty much a single parent of two kids; it wasn't like he could afford insurance. "I haven't got any."

Mr Keate was giving him a strange look, a half smirk, slmost as if he was laughing at him. "Darrel, did you even read your contract?"

His eyes were still light, amused even. Darry suddenly felt suspicious. He had been working here a while now, and he knew that while Mr Keate was a hard taskmaster and could make your life hell if you fell behind schedule too much, he was generally a good guy. He wouldn't tease Darry about the unfortunate situation he was suddenly thrust into, not even in a friendly and joking manner. And what was he talking about, his contract? "I don't know what you mean, sir."

His boss laughed, a deep, throaty chuckle that made Darry feel very childlike all of a sudden. In all honesty, Darry did not think he had ever heard the older man laugh. Now he thought about it, he himself never laughed at work either. "Look, come over to the office for a minute; I need to talk to you about something."

Darry was not left with much option as an arm was flung about his shoulder and he was steered towards the tiny temporary building that served as the site's office. He didn't like it in there; it was terribly hot and uncomfortable, not to mention full of papers and files and all other manners of stored information.

"Do you know much about the business of marketing, Darrel?" Mr Keate asked as he sat behind the desk, offering the chair opposite to Darry.

"Not really, no," Darry admitted. Mr Keate shuffled through a few papers on his desk before coming to what he wanted.

"A couple of years ago, I was offered a deal from an old friend with a dying company," he said, handing the business card across the desk to Darry. "My bit was simple. Recommend them to all my customers, that was it. They couldn't really pay me actual money at the time, but they said they'd get me free cover for my house or one of my worker's houses if they could stay afloat."

Darry studied the business card. He wasn't serious. He couldn't be. Their problems couldn't have evaporated just like that. "You told people to go with a dying insurance company?" he asked quietly.

Mr Keate's face fell slightly as he realized Darry was unhappy with his choice. "They did survive, Darrel. They're pretty well off now, actually. It was a good deal." When Darry did not respond, he continued. "Look, just give him a call. He can probably sort you out."

Darry nodded slowly. He didn't like the idea of knowingly advising people to invest their money in a company that was going broke, but he could not deny how grateful he was. He could scarcely believe it; stuff like that never happened to him. Or, perhaps it did, and it was just less obvious most days. Smiling now, he stood and left the small building, feeling just as elated as he had that morning. Glory, two days of missed sleep and suddenly he was turning into Ponyboy!

But he could not deny the golden sunlight cresting the rooftops sure looked good.

X X X X

**A/N**: If that turned out weird, I have had no sleep. That is my excuse. Still, hope you liked it! Reviews are very welcome, especially theories! I always love theories!

Next chapter, we get back to poor old Steve…


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N**: You've no idea how hard it is for me to get to a computer at the moment; that's why these are taking so long. Loads is in a notebook, but parents are really uncooperative.

Thanks so much to reviewers! You're always awesome. I kinda like this one, so please drop a review!

X X X X

"Who d'you want to visit?" said the burly guard, eyeing the nervous looking kid standing on the other side of the desk. Poor thing probably had some good for nothing Eastie for a father.

"Steve Randle." The voice was soft, still nervous. _Nervous_. Everybody was nervous when they first came here; whether it was visiting, on business, or in handcuffs. The guard leaned forward to check the name in a long list of prisoners with a last name beginning with "R".

"Well, he's clear for visitors," he muttered, "but he's in here for assault, you know that, right?"

"I know."

"Hm." So, not looking for dear old Daddy, then; this Steve kid was just seventeen. "How old are you?" He looked up into brown eyes that would not meet his. The guard couldn't give a toss about kid prisoners; as far as he was concerned, they broke the law, they had to pay. Seventeen was plenty old enough to learn basic morals. Kid visitors… they were another matter entirely.

"Seventeen." Yeah. He had guessed.

"Right. Sign your name here; a guard will accompany you to a visiting room and remain there through your time with the prisoner. You've been searched? Of course you have." A shaking hand signed the white paper and wrote in what time it was in the "Arrive" column. "You'll have ten minutes, and it will be fully monitored for your own safety, understand?"

X X X X

Steve looked up from the uncomfortable cot he was lying on as the cell door opened with a loud banging sound. He was immensely glad he had been lucky enough to score a cell to himself, but now it seemed to have been too good to be true. He was bored out of his brains with no one to talk to, but Dally was certainly a reason why he should prefer boredom. Walls alone were not entirely to blame for making a ten year old violent.

"Randle! Visitor." Visitor? Who the hell would come? Nobody could have know where he was that quickly, and besides, his buddies all had their own problems to deal with. Maybe one of Tim's gang was in here, saw him, told Tim who told Curly who told the tag along who told Soda… Oh, lord… He loved the Curtises (well, Soda, and to a certain extent Darry) like they were his own brothers, but they could be very stupid sometimes.

He climbed off the cot and followed the guard down corridors he had trodden yesterday towards a small room. Vaguely, he wondered why they didn't handcuff him – after all, that was what happened on TV – but he did not question it.

"You have ten minutes," said the guard, and he opened the door.

Any gripes Steve had about the time limit died on his tongue as he saw the person sitting on a chair next to a table in the middle of the room. Their eyes met, and suddenly his arms were filled as the person he least expected began crying into his shoulder. "Sh, Evie, it's okay… I'm fine…" He patted her back, trying to give her what comfort he could, but it ended all too abruptly when the guards forced them apart.

X X X X

"Stupid social services…" Pony muttered as he kicked an old bottle lid across the pathway. "You shoulda seen her face. Like she thought Darry was less than dirt. Bet you anything she was a Soc when she was younger."

"If she'd been a Soc, she'd still be buying booze and crack with no morals and Daddy's money," said Two-Bit. "She wouldn't be working."

They were standing outside the Dingo, smoking the last of Pony's cigarette allowance for the day. He'd probably end up buying more. Sure, he wanted to quit, but he really needed some relaxation right now, or he'd end up taking it out on someone. Not much was happening at their old hangout; it was the middle of the day, and they were supposed to be in school.

"How was the family?" Two-Bit asked, stubbing out his cigarette on the brick wall behind him.

Pony shrugged offhandedly. "Okay. I don't really want to talk about them."

"Why not? They have a hot daughter you hooked up with or something?"

Ponyboy glared at him. "No," he said testily. He should have known Two-Bit wouldn't stay serious for long. He had been honest – the family were quite average. Nice enough people, all six of them, but they weren't _his _family.

"You really need to get yourself a girlfriend, Pony," Two-Bit teased. "You're now the oldest person in our little band to get kissed. Even Johnny beat you to it."

Pony sighed and looked out onto the skyline, towards the west, where the sunset could always be seen with clear brilliance. He wished Two-Bit hadn't mentioned Johnny. It was too soon, the pain still too sharp. Suddenly, he didn't feel like smoking anymore. Johnny had died because of being in a building filled with the stuff. He stubbed out his cigarette with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "I don't think kissing counts when the girl you're kissing it trying her hardest to bite your tongue off," he muttered, "and so I'm still beating you."

Two-Bit looked away, and expression of mock dignity adorning his face. "I'll have you know the girls I've kissed have always remarked it as being the high point of their lives."

Ponyboy laughed – he couldn't help himself. Two-Bit held his mock-dignity face as a couple of older middle class girls who had probably left school a few years ago walked past. "Hey, ladies!" he called. "Two on two, what do you say?"

Ponyboy's laughter died immediately.

X X X X

"I heard some awful Socs bragging that you got hauled away at a pub last night," Evie said quietly as they sat on opposite sides of the table. "I only half believed them, but…"

"Are you disappointed?" Steve asked. It was only now Evie was here that he realized how much he had missed her. Dumping her had been stupid; a mistake made when he had had too much of Two-Bit's beer. He knew that now.

"Well… I reckon I should be, but I'm not. I know there would have been reason."

"There was," Steve stated. He didn't go into he whole story; they only had ten minutes together, and he wanted to ask some thing else. "So… what does you being here mean?"  
"What do you want it to mean?" She was deadly serious.

Steve thought. This was one of those moments, the ones he and Soda had always discussed and tried to plan for when Steve was mildly pissed and Soda had too many Pepsis. This was one of those difficult moments in which any man wished desperately to know what a woman wanted. "I want…" He decided the truth was the best option right now. "I want you back, I guess. I was drunk, and –"

"'I was drunk'," Evie repeated condescendingly. "I hear a lot of that from a lot of guys. I want to know you're different."

"I am different –"

"No, I want to _know_!" Evie said firmly. "Make a promise, Steve. Go on. Or are you too scared?"

Steve's mouth was slightly ajar. Girls sure were difficult, but he wanted this girl enough to fight for her. "I promise…" What did she want? He needed to think. Who did he know that knew girls? Darry hadn't had a girlfriend since before his parents had died, and he wouldn't even consider Two-Bit. He would think about Soda, but then Soda had been horribly let down by the girl he thought wanted to marry him. Then there was Ponyboy –

Ponyboy. He had never had a girlfriend, but now he thought of it, Steve realized that this was one of those times taking Pony's advice would be best. Evie's words matched Pony's sentiments precisely. Damn, what was wrong with him? "I promise… I promise I'll be real careful next time round. I won't drink when we plan to go out, unless that's what you want to do. I'll listen when you talk. I'll be… I'll just be more careful." He felt completely stupid, and he hoped to God this worked. If it didn't, he would be humiliated for nothing.

Evie looked slightly downwards, but her face was soft. "I can accept that," she muttered. "I'd be happy to be your girl again, Steve Randle."

Steve smiled. In a place like this, nothing could mean more than this moment. It was something special. He didn't feel the need to be cynical.

Evie was standing; the guards had announced their time was up. "Evie," Steve said, needing to say something before what could be his only opportunity walked out the door. "Darry came to get gas the other day after work, and he left a black bag there. I had it under the desk to give back to him… could you do that, please?"

Evie nodded. "Sure."

Steve leaned back in the chair for a moment and let out a breath. What needed to be done was done.

X X X X

**A/N**: The "Easties" thing comes from my own town. We got Socs on the North and East, and greasers on the west and south. They're called Westies generally, and I reckon adults use different terms, so I gave them that. Sorry if I offend anyone with that… it's really just what we use.

Please take the time to leave a review! Theories? I want them, no matter how dumb!

Oh, and before I forget, Two-Bit's "Two on two" comment I got from a couple of comedians, Hamish and Andy. Wasn't mine! Disclaim, disclaim… Their stuff is great, check it out on YouTube if you want to.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **This is late because I just suffered the agony of family Christmas (had it early because of cheap flights) followed by a wisdom teeth extraction, which came with a healthy dose of painkillers (writing doesn't sound too good when you feel stoned).

Oh! I won 500 bucks in a writing contest! Yes!!!

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, you're what made me leave the TV!

X X X X

"_I don't want anything more to eat!"_

"_Well, can I get you anything else? Drink? Blanket?"_

_Soda gave his mother a look that showed his displeasure. It wasn't often he found himself angry at anyone, and he wouldn't even say he was angry at Mom, but he was coming very close. It had been a week since he had been released from hospital after his – in his father's words at least – "stupid stunt" at the athletics carnival. Deep down he agreed; it _was _a stupid stunt. It was a stupid stunt to try and tell them not to treat him different. Now he was in a much worse situation. Mom had quit her part time job at the store and had stopped sending Soda to school. He was stuck at home all day trying to convince his mother he wasn't going to keel over and die if she let too much of a breeze in. _

"_I'm sorry, honey," she said in a crooning voice, joining him on the couch. "I just don't want you to get sick again."_

_Soda kept his gaze focused straight ahead. He agreed with her there; he'd never be that sick again, ever. It was something he'd promised himself when they had finally woke him up, and he'd been repeating it to himself ever since, almost as though he thought if he said it often enough it would guarantee it. "I'm fine now," he murmured. It wasn't completely true; he was still in a lot of pain and he'd been coughing and wheezing more than normal, but her overbearing was so wearying he'd say almost anything to make her stop. _

_He knew she was on the verge of speech, but whether to raise the tension purposefully or because she was subconsciously afraid of what she was going to say, he didn't know. "Soda, your father and I don't think you quite understand the implications of what you've done."_

_Soda pinched the bridge of his nose as his chest gave another painful spasm, but he wasn't going to cough in front of her. "What's implications?" he asked shortly._

_Her eyes narrowed as her mother's instincts began working, and Soda's inhaler was suddenly being shoved into his hand. He took the medication wordlessly; much as he was starting to hate his reliance on drugs and doctors, he wasn't stupid enough to leave it. He promised himself he'd never get to that stage again, and he would make damn sure of it. "Implications are consequences."_

_Soda waited until he was sure he wouldn't start coughing if he opened his mouth. "I do understand," he muttered. He didn't want to talk about this. _

"_No, I don't think you do." She turned more towards him and put on her stern-yet-understanding face. "If you did, you would never have raced. I have to say that I'm very disappointed in you."__ She let the silence hang._

_It worked. Silence didn't suit Sodapop. Silence was empty. Empty was nothing. Nothing was lifeless. It felt wrong, and he squirmed slightly__, trying to lift the tension. "You lied to us," she continued softly. "Do you realize that?" She didn't wait for a response. She knew the answer was in the negative. "You told us you were looking for friends, and then you went to race. But I don't really care about that, to be honest…" She leveled him with a piercing gaze. "There's never a day I don't wish you didn't have to deal with this. You're much too young and I know it. But unfortunately you need to start taking responsibility. You know you were very sick. You need to also know that you almost died." Her voice had lost some of its sternness, and the tumultuous emotions she had buried under the surface were now audible. "We all love you _so_ much, and I need you to know that if you do something that could aggravate your condition, it is nothing to joke about. It scares us. We all have tests in life, and this is yours. I hope so much that you understand that, because if you don't…" She left the statement hanging._

_Soda nodded shortly. "I know Mom. I know now." And he did. The horror following his "stupid stunt" had acted as a wake up call._

"_Come here," Mom muttered as she drew Soda a hug that was returned. He may have been frustrated by her overbearing, but Soda still loved his mother. He was just glad he was still around to hug her. _

X X X X

The inspection of the Mathews' residence went as well as could be expected, Darry thought. Actually, with the exception of a sandwich Two-Bit had made some time last week and forgotten about, it all went perfectly. And yet here he was, with a possible chance of going to jail and a probable chance of losing his little brothers. After all, Soda had always been terrible at interviews.

"Dare?" Pony murmured beside him. Darry jerked oddly as he was ripped from his own musings and uncrossed the arms that had been held against his chest for the last twenty minutes. "You didn't do anything, Darry. You know that."

"Yes I did, Ponyboy," Darry said quietly, hoping his voice didn't carry into the next room. Those two men… he couldn't even think of any word bad enough to describe them. Those policemen had practically ambushed his brothers with the intent of splitting them up for good, and had upset Soda bad enough to get themselves banned from the hospital. Now they were in the living room of Two-Bit's house, interrogating Soda over something they already knew the answer to. "I let you go to that rumble, didn't I? That might not be me who gave you that bloody nose, but it's still bad enough in their book. We can't tell them the truth about that, and when you put that with Soda's rib it… it doesn't look too good, Pony."

"Two-Bit gets into fights at school every other week, they don't investigate them!" Pony said in a heated whisper. "And that's practically the truth with both of us anyway… Soda got beaten up by school kids and I was the same, just with more organization in it."

Darry scoffed. "Tell that to them. It doesn't matter, Pony, there ain't anything more we can do. They can't take you two away just because they assume we're all lying."

Pony watched silently as Darry walked away from the door. "Anyway, if I concentrate on this any more I'm going to go crazy. I've got something else on my mind."

He left the sentence hanging as he looked up at Pony. The youngest Curtis was frowning slightly in mild confusion. Darry was acting less like the Darry that was with Pony and more like the Darry that was with Soda. Strange as the feeling was of seeing his brother in another light, Ponyboy didn't pursue the issue. He knew asking Darry how he was feeling was much like trying to give a grizzly bear counseling sessions. "Yeah, what is it?" he said instead.

Darry leant against the wall, standing as far away from the lounge room door as he could in the small space. "What would you do if someone fixed all your problems, but the fix came from somewhere you didn't like? Would you accept, or try to sort everything on your own?"

Pony smiled. His response of, "Well, we all know you do things by yourself regardless of where help comes from" was on the tip of his tongue, but he did not utter it. Teasing Darry was not something he felt like doing now he felt he was getting closer than ever to his brother. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Has someone offered you something?"

"No," Darry said far too quickly. Pony raised his eyebrows. "Yes," he admitted. "It'd really help us out, I know that…"

"But…" prompted Pony.

"But it doesn't come from anywhere good." Darry broke his gaze and began staring into the wall in front of him. "It was… Someone I know lied to a whole lot of people to get this company out of the deep end. He said it was doing really well, and they should all invest money. No one you know," he said hurriedly at the look on Pony's face. "The company ended up getting sorted out again, and they promised this person a favour in return. He offered me the favour."

"But you object to him spreading lies to get what he wanted," said Pony. Darry glanced at him sharply and nodded.

"I don't want you to think you're making the decision; I just want to know what you would do. No one else, just you. I… I've realized that you've grown up a lot. You're not the kid anymore." He was moving his hands in almost nervous habit in his pockets. This wasn't a conversation he thought he'd be having anytime soon, but now that he was, it seemed right. Pony _had_ grown up a lot. The gap between them had shrunk, and it was then that he realized they had both listened to what Soda had to say that night more than any of them thought. Soda was strange in the way he was so mature in some areas, and so juvenile in others. It made the two of them closer than he could be with Pony – their age difference had been too great. Now Pony had grown up, and so had he. They shared a lot more than he ever realized.

"That's pretty bad," said Pony, and Darry was jerked from his musings. Pony was frowning, looking at his feet. "I suppose I'd weigh the pros and cons, think about what this other guy would get from me saying yes, then make a choice."

Darry nodded. "I sure am thinking about it…"

"You know Soda's the one who answers all these deep and meaningful questions about life."

Darry smiled. "Nah, Pony. I'll ask him too, but you're just as good as Soda."

He couldn't miss the look of glowing pride that suddenly flooded Pony's face.

X X X X

**A/N**: I wanted to end it more cliffy, but I just couldn't do it! Cliffy next chapter.

I love reviews… Oh, ie. Soda in the flashback – yeah I know he's way too mature for a twelve year old, but near death experiences'll do that to a person. Theories? Throw 'em at me. Please. I love them!


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N**: I think this is the longest chapter yet. You might have noticed I absolutely fail at updating round this time? I have no real excuse except that I hate summer. My muse stops on the cooler summer days while on the hotter I just don't turn on the computer; it's too damn hot. It's nice and cool today though Oh, and contrary to popular belief, Australians don't own air conditioners unless they live in the center or have too much money. Anyone wishing faster updates is perfectly welcome to buy me one! (Hint, hint!)

X X X X

The door of the shop slammed open more violently than Pony had intended, but he wasn't in the mood to care. "Soda, I need to talk to –" He stopped. Soda had flashed him a smile in greeting and then turned back to the pair of girls Ponyboy had, on first glance, assumed were customers. He flushed and scuffed his feet awkwardly as he took in the way one was leaning on the counter in a way he knew to be suggestive, using it to subtly push up her breasts while the other spoke in a slow, calm voice, twisting her finger around a lock of dark hair and looking just a bit too relaxed.

Oh, he hated it when he saw girls flirting with his brother. It made him feel awkward and embarrassed about everybody: the girls, because really, they shouldn't try and show certain parts of their bodies to someone they barely knew; Soda, because he knew his brother well enough to be certain that Soda neither disapproved of nor minded how girls acted around him; and himself, because walking in on a situation like this really made him feel less like Soda's little brother and more like a scrawny fourteen year old who could never hope to have any girl look at him when they had the option of looking at Sodapop. He felt his cheeks darken further.

Soda spared him another glance and leant further towards the girls. "Tell you what," he said, cutting one off. "You ladies go and get yourselves something to eat and come back in half an hour or so, and I'll talk to my brother here. You don't want me to get fired, do you?"

They giggled, and Ponyboy turned to a magazine rack, trying to look inconspicuous. He'd never felt like this before, but he thought he might actually be embarrassed that Soda had told them he was his brother. He wasn't embarrassed to be Soda's brother, in fact he was anything but, but he knew they'd feel nothing more than pity for him, pity for the fact that out of the two of them, it was obvious who had inherited the looks.

"There's an ice cream place down the road that's pretty good, and you two look like you need to cool off a bit!" One girl gasped slightly before they both erupted back into giggles. Pony only looked up when he heard the shop door shut. "Hi Pony," Soda said happily. "Are you blushing?"

Pony's cheeks darkened again. "Who were they? I ain't seen them before."

"Said they're visiting from Kansas City," replied Soda. Soda had lots of smiles, and the smile he had for girls was fading, replaced by the smile he had for Pony. He liked this smile. It wasn't as broad, but it had a world more emotion in it. "Don't know why they'd come to Tulsa of all places. Anyway, how come you ain't at school?"

Pony dropped his gaze to the floor. Soda wasn't much better than Darry when it came to school attendance. He didn't normally skip… well, not as much as some people did. "Court's on Friday," he blurted.

Soda's smile faded and Pony regretted telling him like he had. He'd heard Darry talking to Two-Bit's mom in the yard that morning before she headed off to work. He was mad at Darry now – why in hell should Darry keep that information from him and Soda, but then go telling _Two-Bit's mom_? Pony supposed he should have known it was going to happen eventually. He just wished it wasn't this soon. For one fleeting moment, he wished with everything in him he'd get sick like he had last time and they'd have more time.

Soda saw the look on Ponyboy's face before his brother knew he was giving it. "Pony…" he muttered.

It was all it took. Pony walked quickly behind the counter Soda was standing at and flung his arms around him as the tears started. Soda wrapped his arms around Pony, rubbing his back and mumbling nonsense Pony probably wasn't hearing into his ear. "I don't want you to go," Pony said shakily, looking up and staring at Soda imploringly. "Please don't go."

Soda frowned. "I ain't going anywhere, Pone, and if I did I promise you'd be right beside me."

Pony shook his head and clutched Soda tighter. "What if they split us up? They're probably going to… I mean… this is the second time in how long? They don't like that, Soda."

Soda tried not to wince as Pony's hug jarred his healing rib. It was a fruitless attempt; Pony disengaged himself quickly, mumbling apologies. "Siddown, kiddo." Soda guided Pony to the chair behind the counter he had spent so many hours sitting at. "Listen." He knelt in front of the chair and held Pony's gaze resolutely. The tears stung him somewhere deep inside, and Soda wished he could destroy the court, police, social workers; anything and everything that made his brother cry. "I can't promise you much, but I'll promise that if they lose their minds and send us away from Darry, we'll still stick together."

"That ain't true, Soda, they might –"

"It _is _true. If any family doesn't want the pair of us, then they don't want either of us. And if they do, then… when have I ever cared about some stupid law more than I care about my brother? I'd still find you, and then we'd find Darry, and we'd get back home, okay?"

Pony didn't answer, but he wasn't sobbing any longer. "_Okay_?" Soda pressed.

"Yeah, okay." Pony rubbed the back of his hand across his face, erasing the evidence of his tears. Good thing the girls had left; if there was anything worse than a girl staring at you when you were next to Sodapop, it was a girl staring at you next to Sodapop while you were crying.

"Good," said Soda, standing. "'Cause if I stayed there any longer, someone would walk in and think I was proposing." Ponyboy smiled slowly and Soda ruffled his hair. "That's what I want to see. No more tears." That was what Ponyboy really loved about Sodapop. He knew the older boy would be scared stiff too about what was coming, but he put on a brave face just for him. It made Pony feel special, feel like he was worth caring about. "Hey Pony?" He looked up again. "You smell good today."

This time Pony's smile was more of a grimace. He'd now been twenty eight hours without a single smoke, and he sure hoped his suffering was worth it. He hadn't obtained a wink of sleep the previous night and he was amazed Soda had gotten any with the way he'd been tossing about. Oh, yes, he hoped he smelled like spring flowers on a winter's morning…

X X X X

Two-Bit would never say he ran from adversity, but he sure just came close. Quickly locking the door to his house – just as a precaution – he moved to the living room window and peered out.

Yes, there they were… Man, did they look dumb! If anyone across the street glanced out their window all they would see were a bunch of stupid, lost rich kids who kept driving in circles because they had the map reading skills of the average broad. Well, not exactly, Two-Bit decided. To say they could read maps like a broad was too complimentary. They could read maps like a drunk Sylvia on one of Dally's old rodeo horses. With a concussion, for good measure.

But the unfortunate actuality was that they _weren't _lost. He'd been walking home when he sensed someone following him – or rather, some_thing. _It was one of those cars - the ones Steve hated with all his being - that looked real flash but would be hard pushed to do sixty downhill. In Steve's opinion, anything pretty but useless was just incredibly pretentious and should be brought out to the middle of the desert to be bombed into oblivion, particularly if it was on a car. The things that didn't look quite so pretentious were the five snarling Socs seated inside. They wanted blood; Two-Bit could tell from their murderous expressions alone. His suspicions had been confirmed when they tried to drive onto the sidewalk, whether to hit him or scare him, he didn't know, but he took no chances. He might have come across as cocky and indifferent even in life or death situations, but Two-Bit Mathews was smarter than he looked.

"Anyone home?" he yelled.

"WHAT?"

Two-Bit raised his eyebrows – seemed that little baby Mathews had been sleeping. "All right, all right, keep your pants on!" He continued to shout, just for the sake of spiting his little sister. Darry and Soda might not find it funny to annoy younger siblings, but it was Two-Bit's third favourite pastime, surpassed only by booze and blondes. And it _had _been a while since he went for a night on the town… "Don't go out just now," he called to his sister upstairs, becoming serious once more. He didn't honestly think the Socs would try anything with someone that small and female, but it certainly did not hurt to have precautions. "And why the hell ain't you in school?"

X X X X

Friday morning saw an end to the sunshine that had been dominating the sky for well over a week, and the light rain now hydrating Mrs Mathews' lawn was both depressing and, according to Ponyboy, foreboding. To him, the world had not looked this sad and dreary since the morning of Johnny's funeral. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, and no matter how many reassurances he received, it only continued brewing.

Soda didn't feel anything like this. He hadn't actually _said _anything to Pony since he had been almost confronted by his younger brother in the bookstore earlier that week, but Pony could just tell that Soda believed every single word of hope he had said. He was sleeping fine, unlike Ponyboy, who lay on the fold out couch next to him, listening to each of his brothers breathing to try and determine if one was feeling as sleepless as he did so they could talk. Pony hadn't slept more than a couple of hours all week, and he was feeling lethargic and disgustingly puffy-eyed.

Darry was worried. He showed it in a different way to his brothers, but Pony could tell that the excessive time spent at work or poring over bits of paper Pony didn't know the content of was not a coincidence. Darry was trying to drown his worries in work. Well, better than drowning them in beer…

"You want some more eggs, Pone?" Darry asked quietly. Pony shook his head, and Darry sighed. He hated it how every time Ponyboy became upset over something, his automatic response seemed to be to stop eating and sleeping, and to try and turn himself into a walking zombie. If he were more like Soda, then half of Darry's own worries would be instantly obliterated. He didn't need to offer Soda more food; he was already wolfing down a second plate, looking as though he did not have a care in the world. Soda had been feeling good all week, incredibly good. Darry could not remember even one cough, nor had he walked in on Soda standing unnaturally still, holding his chest as he waited for the worst pain to pass. He'd bounded out of bed every morning, gone out to work with a huge smile and a spring in his step, and came home looking as though he'd spent the day at the amusement park instead of an old bookstore.

As though he could hear what Darry was thinking, Soda suddenly spoke up. "Hey Darry, how'd you feel about me getting a second job?"

Darry almost choked on the muesli that was halfway down his throat. He swallowed properly and stared at Soda as though he had grown a second head, an almost amused half smile going across his lips. "Do you even need to ask? Of course you can't! I don't even want you to have one job, you sure as hell ain't getting two!"

"How come?"

"_How come_?" Darry could hardly believe he was hearing this. Was Soda serious? He looked over at Ponyboy, who had the same bewilderment in his eyes, before turning back to Sodapop's mildly confused face, almost as though he wasn't sure why Darry was refusing. "Do you think you'd be working full time if Mom and Dad were still around?" Darry asked him.

Soda looked down. "No."

"And do you think I'd let you work if we didn't need your paycheck? Let me answer that one for you: _no_." Soda looked disappointed. Well, what did he expect? "You'd be in school, same as Pony will be when he's your age. Working's my job, you hear? You might get a little sample but you ain't getting the whole deal, understand?"

He still looked disappointed, but he perked up again pretty quickly. That was Soda for you, put him down and he'd bounce right back up… "But I've been feeling real good lately, and –"

"This has got nothing to do with how good you feel." Now Darry was becoming firm. There was no way in heaven or hell Soda was working the same hours he did. He'd get a third job before he let that happen. "I don't care if you're an Olympic athlete or someone who's lost every limb, you _ain't working two jobs_."

That did it. Sodapop's attention returned to his food, and Darry's minor distraction ended, leaving him once again with thoughts. Horrible ones, thoughts that involved Ponyboy screaming and Soda's eyes filled with tears as they were dragged off to someone else's car.

He shook himself from his musings, instead choosing to focus on what he had – _who _he had – right now. He took the plate of eggs he had tried offering Ponyboy and put it firmly down on the table in front of him. "Eat. Now."

Sodapop grinned at Pony's surprise. "I can't believe this," said Pony, stabbing his eggs violently with his fork, as though it was their fault he was having a bad day. "Even if we come out of this alive" – Soda snorted in amusement at his pessimism – "we still got Steve's thing next week."

Darry's jaw was suddenly stiff, and the tension in the whole room escalated. Ponyboy could have kicked himself, and he looked imploringly at Darry, his eyes screaming his apology. He had forgotten…

"What thing?" Soda questioned sharply, suddenly aware something big had been kept from him.

Ponyboy looked down as Darry turned to Sodapop. "We wanted to wait until after the trial…" he said softly.

"What?" Now Soda was getting nervous, fiddling with the material of his jeans under the table. He knew Steve was in the cooler, so what could have… Oh lord, he hadn't tried to escape, had he?

"Steve called after we came back here from visiting you. You remember, when that social worker told us about our court hearing and that? Steve got his own hearing for assaulting those two boys." He screwed up his nose in distaste, still wondering what kind of anger must have possessed Steve to make him do that. He still could not fathom it. "Next Friday, it is… Just remember it would have come up sometime."

"That don't mean it still ain't a shock," said Soda quietly. "I would have thought he'd have more time."

"I think we all did," mumbled Pony, sinking back into his somber mood.

The Mathews had left them alone for breakfast, whether by chance or by calculated design, none of the Curtises were sure. Two-Bit and Mrs Mathews would both be speaking to the judge, and Rachel would be sitting with whoever wasn't taking their turn. She wasn't old enough to stay at home alone yet, so her mother thought. Mrs Mathews was blissfully unaware of her daughter's growing tendency to copy her son's bad behavior.

X X X X

Contrary to the promises made insincerely by Darry and sincerely by Soda as they approached the looming hunk of wood and plaster that was the old courthouse, Pony's fears only increased. Grey, almost black clouds framed the dark roof as he gazed up at it, and he found himself suddenly unable to think of anything colourful. It was an odd, disconcerting feeling, but the world was now so incredibly dreary that even Two-Bit's horrendous yellow tie looked as black as the old jacket surrounding it.

It had been sheer luck that Darry had decided to put a clothes wash on the line the morning of the fire, and so each of the boys still had a reasonable amount of clothes left. Their suits hadn't escaped, however; they hadn't worn them and so there was no reason to put them in for washing. Pony was now dressed in a very old one of Two-Bit's that he had worn to his grandfather's funeral when he was thirteen. It was a bit too tight, and his wrists and ankles stuck out horribly, but all in all he was thankful he at least had something to wear. Soda had snuck into Steve's house while his father was at some bar and taken his; it wasn't perfect, but it fit better on him than Ponyboy's. He knew Steve wouldn't mind; they had been swapping things since grade school. Darry had done the best of the lot, borrowing a coworker's outfit. Everyone at the construction site had a similar build, so the suit Darry had ended up with looked even better than his own had.

Looking presentable and at least a tiny bit well behaved was only the easiest part of the whole, exhausting process. Pony had only spent one night in a foster home, and it hadn't been horrible – he'd had plenty to eat and it wasn't like the parents were abusive or anything – but it still wasn't _his _family. He didn't need some stranger; he needed Darry and Soda. It seemed that every time Pony and Darry seemed to be getting along better, someone showed up and tried to make like it was a dysfunctional or even abusive home. He thought idly about how Soda had climbed into Steve's living room window. If their positions had been reversed, and Soda had been in jail and Steve in need of something, he'd just walk up and ask Darry to let him in. And Darry would say yes, no questions asked. But Steve's dad wasn't Darry, and Soda knew that if he walked up and asked, he'd get yelled at, turned away, and maybe even used as a substitute punching bag in the absence of the man's son. But it wasn't Steve here; it was Pony.

He stopped gazing up at the clouds cresting the building and turned his attention back towards his family and friends. Soda was telling Darry in a slightly hushed tone how he wasn't sure if the two policemen had believed him when he said he had been beaten up by a group of guys. Ponyboy almost rolled his eyes in frustration of the incompetence. They wouldn't believe him. They wouldn't believe Darry. They wouldn't even believe Soda. What more did they want them to do?

"Well, they said they believed me," Soda was saying, "but you know how they are. They said you shouldn't have let me walk home in the dark like that."

Darry scoffed. "You're seventeen, I think I can let you go for a walk in the dark," he muttered. "If it were up to them you two'd both be stuck at home watching kids' cartoons that teach you how to spell 'apple'. Just forget it, Soda, we'll be okay."

Mrs Mathews quietly reminded Darry of the time, and Pony shivered. Gazing up at the oversized doors, he tried to quash the rising bile in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this. Something inside him was telling him to run while he still could. His feet felt like they were giant hunks of lead as he walked with the others up the steps. For better or for worse, he'd stick this out. As long as he had his brothers, nothing could hurt him.

X X X X

**A/N**: I like REVIEWS! Lol, I'm such a review whore. Theories on what shall happen next chapter? Next update shall coincide with the next Sydney cool change (and computer availability) so often, the best way to know is to check the forecast. I'm weird that way.

Oh, re the pretentious car Two-Bit refers to? There IS a car hard pushed to do sixty downhill. I saw it on _Top Gear_, and my mum used to have one as a kid.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N**: This is by far the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. I've laboured many hours to get it done before the heat wave kicks back in (I HATE the heat) so it's now 11 at night… anyway…

I've never (thank God) been to a custody battle, especially not in America, and Hinton wasn't too descriptive, so everything I've written in regards to the description of the place is from a variety of TV, experiences of friends and family in tribunal hearings, and the fact that in the book Soda turns to Pony before looking back at the judge and telling him Dally was a real good buddy (meaning he could see both people). Yeah, I didn't have much to work on, so please bear with me.

Thanks so much to reviewers! This one is for you guys!

X X X X

If anyone thought it had been cold and depressing outside, it was nothing in comparison to the inside of the building. The group of people walked through several corridors, and they were passed by men and women with eyes that seemed devoid of a soul, walking this way and that, carrying bits of paper and cups of coffee. Two-Bit in particular seemed to take great amusement in the challenge of turning the women in particular away from this "attitude of half emptyingness", as he called it, by a couple of crude gestures or suggestive words that made Pony's ears turn red. Soda avoided their gazes completely; those expressions were more frightening than anything else. He couldn't imagine a world in which his only objective was to do his job. Sure, Darry and Mrs Mathews both worked a lot, but they had a reason: family. These people were working for the sake of working. It was wrong, unnatural even.

They found their way to a room of fairly small size with colours in the walls and floor that reminded Pony of school. There were a few chairs closest to the door, just enough for each of them, and a singe chair further up, facing a desk at which an old man – the judge – sat. To the left was another desk, this one smaller, at which sat a young lady with a typewriter.

The group of six – three Curtises and three Mathews – took seats as the old judge went through a few sheets of paper, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they had fallen with practiced ease. Then he looked up, his face completely deadpan. "I'll talk to Keith Mathews first."

Two-Bit rose and swaggered over to the single chair in the front. He half wished this man was a broad; with his incredible intuition of the female species and Soda's looks and charm, they could flirt themselves up a won case in no time. Men… they were a little less impressed by flashy smiles and handsome faces. But then, he'd never heard of a chick judge anyway.

"Mr Mathews, how long have you been friends with these boys?" No pleasant introductions? No _politeness_? And Two-Bit was sure he'd be sitting here going all high and mighty about Darry's missed college education, his own constant failed grades and Soda's dropping out. He was a Soc, no doubt about it. An old one, sure, but a Soc nonetheless.

He dragged himself back to the present. "Years, I guess. Darry there was a couple of grades above me in kiddy school, I dunno when we became friends." Two-Bit could never remember meeting anybody for the first time. Maybe he used to be able to, maybe too much beer wiped it clean – that's what Ponyboy would say at any rate. He really didn't care. The only person he remembered meeting was Dallas, and that wasn't a very pleasant memory. Dally was younger than him, but he could swear the bruise on his jaw _still _hurt.

"And what was he like growing up? Did he ever bully anyone?"

Behind them, Darry's fists clenched almost imperceptibly. Of course he'd pick the tall and muscular guy as the school bully.

"Actually he never did anything bad to anyone, so long as they didn't deserve it. But isn't that a little _negative _of you?"

The old judge had been sitting there with that same morose expression since they entered the room, and it did not change now. "I beg your pardon?"

"See, my mom always told me to see the good in people. I don't think you're doing a real fine job of that, sir. You asked me if he ever bullied anyone. What about 'did he stand up for truth and beauty' and all that? What happened to 'did he fight to the bitter end for all that is right'?"

Now Darry fought back the urge to stand up and cuff Two-Bit on the back of his oversized head. This wasn't a joke to him. Soda and Pony weren't a joke to him, and if Two-Bit wanted to turn something into a joke, he could use his own family.

"I am asking the questions, Mr Mathews," said the judge firmly. "You answer them truthfully. If that is too complicated for you to understand then you can go back over there while I question somebody else, all right?" He didn't wait for a response, merely shuffled through a few more papers. "You met Darrel first, is that correct?"

Two-Bit didn't turn this into a joke, answering with a simple, "Yes, your honour."

"So when you met Sodapop and Ponyboy" – here he struggled slightly, frowning as though the names felt unnatural coming from his mouth – "would you describe their relationship with their older brother as healthy or unhealthy?"

Two-Bit was actually beginning to get rather fed up. It couldn't be clearer that the judge was sitting there expecting him to say that he saw Darry beating up Soda and Pony all the time, and perhaps even lit the fire that had destroyed their home himself for good measure. "You know, I actually can't say a single bad thing about their relationship," he said seriously. His face felt a little strange without his usual smile. "Darry's real smart, and he was going to go to college and buy a nice house on the West Side and live like a Soc. Then his parents died. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't give up that kind of a life to stay with a couple of kids unless I really loved them."

Christ, the man _still_ lacked any type of emotion! What was with these people? "Excuse me, did you say 'live like a Soc'?"

And adults thought they were so knowledgeable… "Yeah. Social, rich west side kid. The type of person that looks like a real respectable youth with their clothes and cars, then goes round in the dead of night beating up us greasers. I know Darry's so committed to his family because we're all part of a family. We look out for each other, and if Darry were beating his brothers then he sure as hell wouldn't be welcome at my place!" Two-Bit was surprised at his own reaction. He needed to calm down, a _lot_.

"If these… Socs walk around looking for fights, why do you say Darrel would have lived like one and yet still had no violent tendencies?"

Two-Bit swore internally. This was not good… "I meant he'd have a nice house and secure job and all that," he clarified. "Look, Darry doesn't beat up his brothers. He… our buddy Johnny, he didn't have a good home life. Darry'd let him sleep on the couch anytime he needed to get away, anytime at all. He lets us eat his food if we need to, sleep round there if we need to. That's the kind of friend he is. That's the kind of man he is."

It was quite possibly the most serious and sincere speech Two-Bit Mathews had ever made. It was all true, every word, but the judge's face gave no indication as to whether or not he believed it. Well, what could he do? If the man were to receive a letter right at this moment telling him his wife died, he still would show no emotion. It had been amusing in the hallways, but now it was just frightening. He knew now that they wouldn't know which way the hearing was going until that old man who didn't know any of them decided whether or not he would rip apart a family.

The judge just looked at him for a few moments before speaking again. "If you could just tell me why you think these boys should stay together, then."

Well, _that _was more positive. "They hold each other up," Two-Bit answered simply. "They have a place to live, and I reckon that'd be the only reason you'd put Pony and Soda in a foster home. They need each other, and if you put them into foster homes it'd be a waste of money for the state. There ain't any point putting them in a home; save it for kids who need it."

The judge nodded and glanced over to the woman in the corner who was taking the notes, just to make sure she had gotten everything. "All right then, if I could get you to step down, I'll speak with Jean Mathews next."

It was a strange thing about the Mathews family, Ponyboy thought to himself as Two-Bit's mother stood up, for once looking solemn without her wide, kind smile. He scarcely recalled the existence of Two-Bit's real name, and he had never entertained the notion of his mother having one. He had simply called her "Mrs" his whole life.

He had no idea whether Two-Bit's little speech was good or bad. Of course, he could not read he judge's face, but he had taken to reading Darry's; he figured that since Darry was the one who gained custody of him and Soda when their parents first died, he must know a thing or two about what they liked to hear. Darry didn't look any happier, but he'd had the same worried-almost-to-the-point-of-nausea expression that he had been wearing since they arrived here. Ponyboy privately thought it would not disappear unless the judge officially announced they were back in his care. _Until_, he corrected himself quickly. _Until they announce. Not unless._

"You have allowed this family to stay in your house," stated the judge as Mrs Mathews sat in what Pony decided was the interrogation chair. He sounded, for the first time, impressed.

"Yes," said Mrs Mathews. "It's not a problem at all, though. They're absolutely delightful houseguests."

"Mrs Mathews, I have in front of me your work schedule. You work quite a number of hours; how, then, can you have an opinion of how these boys behave when you're out?"

Darry, who was sitting in the middle of his two brothers, wrapped an arm around each of them. Soda glanced sharply at Pony, who gave him an equally fearful glance back. If Darry was worried, then they certainly had reason to be.

"Well, like you said, I come home quite late. Usually I find the house with the remnants of my children's food all through the kitchen; they haven't washed the clothes or dishes or anything. Since they moved in I come home and find the place virtually spotless."

Darry's arms relaxed slightly.

"Do you find it places unfair financial burden upon you to have three extra people?"

Mrs Mathews was prepared again. "It's no different. Darrel pays his part of all the bills; there's absolutely no difference for me. Honestly, I think having extra people living in my place is a relief; I have someone to watch Rachel, and they can go to the store when I'm at work and everything."

Darry's arms relaxed again around his brothers, and he started to wish the judge would just sit there and question Mrs Mathews for the rest of the day, skipping him. She could win this thing all by herself. "I'll tell you something," she began again, "these are three of the politest boys I've ever met. We're all happy for them to live at my house, so I'm not certain why you would wish to split them up."

Then the judge was actually smiling at her. It was a brief, fleeting gesture, but it was a smile nonetheless. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that aside from himself and the lady on the side taking notes, she was the only one above twenty five in the whole room. "All right, Mrs Mathews, I think I have all I need from you."

Next he called Darry, and it was as though someone had flicked a switch in his head. Completely aside from his almost friendly attitude with Mrs Mathews, he was suddenly stern and aloof once more. Any good feelings Soda and Pony had had vanished once again, to be replaced by uncertainty.

"Mr Curtis, both your brothers were found with injuries that were the result of violence. While both have denied your involvement, until we know where they really came from, we don't want to take any chances. So I'll ask you to tell us exactly where the injuries came from."

Darry sighed in frustration. How many times did he have to tell them? "What Two- Keith Mathews was saying is right. These kids like to beat us up. Soda was attacked on his way home from work and they busted his rib. Pony… same thing, only several days later, he was lucky because I was near him at the time. I came and got him out before he got himself more than a bloody nose." He needed to make his tone less abrupt. He knew no good could come of it.

The judge was sitting there with that same annoying deadpan look upon his face. "Why don't they ever attack you?" he asked.

_Because I'm built like a brick wall, you moron_, Darry thought. He'd certainly been jumped his fair share before he started this job and he knew it was because of the rather obvious results of his intense exercise that the Socs had stopped. "I'm older than they are," he said instead. "Same deal with Keith, the younger kids go after the younger kids."

"I see." The judge folded his arms across the desktop thoughtfully. "You should know that there are several reasons the state wishes to take custody of your brothers. One being the injuries they sustained, though that seems to be void since nobody will admit to any kind of abuse from you. Another is the fire that destroyed your home; we have to be certain these boys have a roof over their heads. The third major reason that I have not yet spoken about is Sodapop's illness."

Darry's eyes narrowed sharply. "There was nothing I could have done to stop him getting sent to hospital," he insisted. "He ended up in hospital plenty of times with my parents; he just breathed too much smoke!"

"I am aware of that," replied the judge, a little rudely. "However, what I am not sure about is whether you could support your family should he be hospitalized again. I see here that you've only paid one of the bills the hospital sent you… What I'm saying, Mr Curtis, is that if you can't think of a very good reason to have your brothers remain in your custody, I'm going to have to take Sodapop out of your care and place him with a family who can take better care of him in case of an emergency, and I'm going to have a serious think about doing the same for Ponyboy."

Behind the interrogation chair, Soda slid sideways into the chair Darry had occupied and wrapped his arms around Pony. Pony returned the embrace, and both brothers tried to focus on each other, blocking out the two people talking at the front of the room. Two-Bit watched them, feeling miserable himself on their behalf. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling to him, one he didn't like one bit. Pony wouldn't survive without Soda, he just wouldn't. Soda would know this and would probably eat himself alive with guilt, and Darry wouldn't survive without either one. The whole family would just implode, all because of this one pompous old Soc who thought he had all the answers.

Darry was quiet for a few moments, thinking out his answers carefully. He kept his thoughts strictly methodical. If there was one thing he refused to do, it was cry in front of the judge. Any emotional thinking at all and he knew that would happen. Greasers didn't cry. He repeated it inside his head like a mantra: greasers didn't cry, greasers didn't cry, greasers didn't cry…

He shrugged, a very small shrug that spoke of desperation. "Since we lost our parents we're all we got," he admitted quietly. "I know none of us would function without each other. It wouldn't even matter if you put them in a house near me so I could visit them; it'd mean I failed. It'd mean Pony wouldn't have anyone to help him if he had a nightmare; I know he wouldn't want a stranger helping. It'd mean Soda wouldn't have anyone to talk to – _really _talk to – and I know he needs that. It'd mean I wouldn't have something to work for. I wouldn't come home and be reminded why I went to work in the first place. That's what it would mean to me. To you, it'd mean Pony's grades go down real fast. I know that kid; he doesn't work hard for nothing. I help him with homework and he does it. And half the reason he works so hard is that we get to stick together; there wouldn't be any point if we weren't together. As for Sodapop, you said he needed someone who could be there in an emergency. Well, he'd have a hell of a lot more emergencies if he weren't with us; stress always makes him sicker, and I know that because I know how to take care of him!"

The judge wasn't fazed in the least. "I'd think he'd be better off in the long run with more hospital stays with someone who can pay for it than less with someone who can't," he said. "They aren't going to want to take him if you have outstanding bills. And what happens if Ponyboy falls down the stairs and breaks a leg? You won't be able to pay for that either."

Darry glared at him. "Pony's insured," he said shortly, "and it's not my fault they wouldn't insure Soda. Besides, the bills aren't due yet. I'll pay them off; how can you say I can't if I haven't even received a late notice yet?"

The older man raised his eyebrows. He read over a few more documents on the desk before him. "All right then, I'll talk to Sodapop now."

Pony gripped Soda's hand tightly, almost afraid he'd be whisked away the second the judge finished talking to him. He knew it was stupid; he himself still needed to talk, and then there'd probably be one of those recesses to wait while the judge decided. Then again, he seemed pretty damn decided already. Still, Pony let go, hoping and praying for a miracle.

Soda perched himself on the edge of the interrogation chair, almost as if he was scared it would swallow him whole if he got too comfortable. He'd been real proud of Darry for thinking of saying all that; he would have lost it right about then. But now it was his turn, and he wasn't sure how ready he was.

"All right, I'll start by asking you how you broke your rib."

Soda blinked. "I thought Darry told you," he said.

"Yes, but I want to hear it from you."

Soda was relatively certain the judge was speaking down his nose on purpose. If there was anything Sodapop hated doing, it was making unfair assumptions about people, but he knew what Two-Bit thought of this guy – he had seen it in his face - and he was starting to agree. "I was walking home from work, and it was dark, and four guys jumped out and attacked me."

The judge looked almost angry – _almost_. It was still mostly deadpan. _How could anyone possibly look so… emotionless_? Soda thought. It was weird and even a little unsettling. "Your brother and Mr Mathews have both spoken very poorly about these… these Socs, saying they are violent. However, when the court took this case, they tried to contact a young man who, I believe, is your best friend. And he isn't here today because he is in a prison cell for assault. This does not speak very well for the type of company you keep, Mr Curtis, and reflects poorly on your brother's ability to raise you."

Soda frowned. "Steve's been my best buddy for years, since we were in grade school," he said. "Darry had nothing to do with it. And Steve… he assaulted a couple of the guys who attacked me, and I _know _that doesn't make it any better, but he looks out for me and I look out for him. He's a good guy."

"Well, I will say that I was not aware you and he were friends for such a long time," the judge said quietly, crossing something on one of the papers in front of him. Soda hoped that was a good thing. "Now, you dropped out of school, and that happened _after _your parents died. Have you got anything to say to defend that decision? I can assure you, that reflects poorly on Darrel as well."

Soda thought for a moment before speaking. "Well, I didn't do anything wrong," he said. "It's legal to drop out, and that's because school isn't suited for everyone. If everyone in the country were a lawyer or a judge like you, we'd have no waiters, no one to fix our cars, no garbage collectors or any of that. So the truth is that dropouts are just as important as lawyers and judges, and the law recognizes that by letting me drop out."

Behind him, Darry and Pony glanced at each other. Darry had let Soda drop out, though he'd never really fully approved, and Pony hated it, seeing it as Soda giving up. Neither of them had thought about it like that.

The judge raised his eyebrows and Soda could tell he was impressed. Honestly, he was proud of that statement. He'd only just thought of it, but it was true: there _was _a need for dropouts. The judge looked back down at his papers (it seemed to be a bit of a habit) and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "You heard what I said to your brother," he continued. "There is every reason for me to remove you in particular from Darrel's care. Do you have anything to say about that?"

_Yes_, he wanted to scream. Yes, he had a lot of things to say about that. But he knew shouting and screaming would get him nowhere. He sorted his argument out in his mind like he had done for the previous questions – better to be prepared than not.

But as he took his next breath, he felt his chest flare up with pain that hadn't been present for several days now. He hadn't realized until now how much he had enjoyed the reprieve he almost never got.

The pain was a shock, and it couldn't have come at a worse time. He held his breath, which eased the pain substantially, but he knew if it didn't let up soon, the judge would figure out what was going on, and whatever slim chance he'd had of staying with Darry would be gone.

Pony nudged Darry slightly, recognizing the stiff posture of his older brother. Darry was biting his lip. He knew exactly what was going on; no matter how much Soda wanted to play pretend, it would not work on the people who had known him since he was a baby.

"Mr Curtis, could you answer the question please?" the judge said. "Or don't you have an answer?"

Pony glared at him. This was exactly how the police had acted in the hospital. At least this judge didn't know what was going on. Those other men certainly had.

"I –" Soda started before stopping as his lungs reacted violently. It felt like they were more trying to attack him than help him. "I'll answer," he said quickly, trying to get it out before he was stopped again. His voice shook violently, and he could almost see the fire in his eyes that was burning in his chest. That small expulsion of air was too much, way too much. He suddenly knew he wasn't going to get past this by sitting and willing it away. And he couldn't hold his breath much longer.

He vaguely heard the judge questioning him if he was all right, but more concrete was the feeling of someone's hand urging him up. Darry was guiding him towards the door to the hallway, and he went willingly, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the room he was in. His lungs were screaming at him to hold his breath and to let it out at the same time. He chose to hold it after trying to inhale once.

Darry made him sit against the wall next to the door. "You gotta breathe when I tell you to, Soda, okay?" Then he felt something being pushed into his mouth, and Darry told him to breathe right before pushing the top of the inhaler. Soda sucked in the air, but God it hurt, and he wrapped his arm around his chest and tried to keep holding it.

"You can let it out now, Soda," said Darry after a couple of seconds. Soda did nothing. "Soda, you need to breathe out," he insisted firmly.

Soda did it, and this time it did not hurt. He took a few more breaths, relieved when the air continued to flow easily and he was not visited by his fairly frequent post-pain coughs. Darry passed him the inhaler and he used it again, more as a preventative measure than anything else.

"I'm sorry, Darry," Soda said quietly. "He probably thought I didn't care or something…"

"No offence, little buddy, but you ain't the greatest actor in the world," said Darry. "We all knew what was happening. He'll let you talk again, don't worry about it."

They just sat there for a couple of minutes, enjoying the reprieve from the grueling questioning. Finally Darry spoke again. "You ready to go back in?"

Soda nodded. "I hate this, Darry. He's using me, I know it."

"Don't flatter yourself," teased Darry. "He rips apart families for a living, so I'm sure he's done it plenty of times without your help."

Soda smiled. "Shut up." It wasn't often Darry teased him; it was usually him teasing Darry. Darry just wasn't the joking type.

They walked back inside together, but Darry moved off to sit next to Pony while Soda walked back to the front of the room, sitting in front of the judge. "Sorry," he mumbled. _Please don't let me have blown it…_

"Generally I wouldn't allow that," the judge stated, "but given the circumstances…" He left the sentence hanging. "Returning to my previous question, have you anything to say about my statement that there is every reason to remove you from Darrel's care?"

Soda's throat tightened. He just wanted to go home… then he remembered he didn't have a home any longer. It had burned down, landing him in hospital, and now this… this horrible old man was trying to tear them apart because of that. He'd never felt so exhausted… "Darry takes fine care of me," he said. "And Pony too. Me and Pony shared a room before the house burned down, and we told each other everything. We both need that. And when he ran away… it was unbelievably horrible, I don't want that again. And Darry's always there when we need him. We tell him not to overdo it at work, because he does, and he does it for us." It was all he could think of saying. He just hoped Pony had some brilliant idea in that enormous brain of his, because he was all out.

"All right. Ponyboy?"

Soda finally stepped down. That had been a nightmare. One incredible, huge nightmare. He caught Pony's eye as they crossed each other and smiled reassuringly. Ponyboy only grimaced back.

"Do you confirm Darrel and Sodapop's story of how you got your nosebleed from a fight with other boys?" the judge started without preamble.

"Yes," said Ponyboy. Simple enough, but that was only the first question. Sodapop had been absolutely torn apart by this old man.

"All right," said the judge, looking piercingly at Pony, almost daring him to look away. Pony held his gaze. "Now you get very good grades, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And I see you're in all the top classes…"

Ponyboy wondered if he was looking for faults. It certainly sounded like it. "Yeah, Darry always makes sure I do my homework, and he helps me if I'm having trouble."

The old man continued staring at him. "You ran away some time ago now," he said. "Why?"

Pony tried not to break his gaze. He couldn't be caught lying, and he sure as hell would not tell the truth. "I was... I was going through a phase," he said. It even sounded stupid coming from his own mouth. "I was a lot less mature then, and I had some stupid ideas…" Well, it was true that he was a lot less mature back then. Back before Dally and Johnny… left… "I regret that more than I can say."

The judge seemed to buy it. "How do you like living with Darrel?"

The question sounded familiar, and it itched at the back of his consciousness before he placed it as the same question he'd been asked last time this had happened. Of course, last time the judge hadn't been dead set against them before they'd even set foot inside the room. "It's real nice," he said. "He gives me food and shelter and clothes and everything, everything you'd be looking for if you find children a home. But he gives me something you never look for: a loving family." It came out kind of cheesy, and he'd probably get hell from Two-Bit for it later, but at least he said it.

"So what would be your main reason for wishing to stay together?" he asked.

"My main reason is that there ain't any one reason," said Ponyboy. He wasn't thinking about what he was saying; the words just flowed from his brain to his mouth faster than he could read them and really hear what he was saying. It was that thing about him that made Darry say he didn't use his head. Who knew, maybe Darry was right! "There're so many reasons we should stay together. I know I'd get real bad nightmares if I left. I just would. And I know Soda would get real sick if he left. And foster parents would get paid by the state to take care of us, right? Well, how come we get no help?"

The judge raised an eyebrow, an expression that Two-Bit pulled regularly, though the two expressions could not be compared. Two-Bit's cocked eyebrow look was always in amusement. This cocked eyebrow looked more sinister than anything else.

"I don't know the law or anything, but they'd have the same problem we have with expenses. But anyway, that's at the bottom of my list, even though it's at the top of yours. The top of my list is that I love both my brothers, and I don't think there's any legal system in the world set up for that. And that just ain't fair." There. He'd said his piece, and now he'd just wait for this old man to decide whether or not to rip apart his life. He barely heard the judge announce he'd take twenty minutes to deliberate, and before he knew it he was sitting on a dirty patch of grass outside in the crushing grayness.

"I'm sorry," Soda muttered.

That was what broke Pony out of his thoughts. Soda was brushing angrily at his face, trying to stop crying. The look in his eyes was bleak. It was that look that meant reality was breaking in. Pony could understand that. Soda had been the one holding them up in the lead up to this hearing. He was the one who had made him that promise in the bookshop, the one that Pony knew should not be entirely counted on. Maybe Soda hadn't just said that to cheer him up. Maybe he had been cheering himself up too. And now that judge had practically told him that it was his fault he was splitting them up. God, how he needed a smoke…

But he would not think on it now. He just hugged Soda, who hugged him back, until Darry wrapped his arms around both of them at the same time and they ended up one huge pile of giggles.

X X X X

They returned after twenty minutes on the dot and were called back into the room. Pony was chewing on nails that had long since disappeared, ignoring the blood running into his mouth. He tried not to think about where he was, tried to imagine he was in just another classroom at school, though deep down, he couldn't help but worry.

Soda was trying to convince himself that they would stick together; after all, he had been successfully telling himself the same thing for almost a week now. But he had been absolutely torn open by that judge. He knew his optimism had been shattered for the moment. He wouldn't get it back so easily.

Darry was distracting himself from his own worries by focusing on his brothers and their needs. He smacked Pony's wrist away from his mouth, earning himself a glare. He was real proud that Pony had cut back his smoking so much, but he didn't need to pick up any other habits. Soda… he didn't know how to help Soda except to keep him close. Keep him close for now, and later, and forever. This old man better not take his brothers away from him…

The Mathews had remained outside out of respect for the family. Two-Bit in particular was being oddly sensitive, and it reminded Darry slightly of the Two-Bit right after Dally's death, when he had mourned his switchblade. He had lost his smile then, and he sure as hell had lost it now.

The old Soc was showing no emotion, so it was impossible to read the situation. Darry wondered idly how long that man trained to have his face stay so immobile, then realized what he was thinking and snapped himself out of it. This was no time for such stupid thoughts.

"After careful consideration," he began without looking at the boys in front of him, "I have come to my decision regarding the custody of Sodapop and Ponyboy Curtis. It is my decision that Ponyboy remains with Darrel, as I believe he has proven himself as a capable guardian."

He said it so fast there was barely time to process the words, but Pony pressed himself into Darry. He was relieved and thrilled, but he wouldn't celebrate anything until he had heard what this old Soc had to say about Soda. He refused to.

"Regarding the custodianship of Sodapop, I cannot in good conscience allow a child to remain in a family that cannot financially provide for his needs. Therefore I would have to rule that Sodapop be turned over to the State of Oklahoma for placement in a suitable home. However –"

"_What_?" Ponyboy had stood up, fury evident in both his poise and his face. "You can't do that, you –"

"Excuse me, Ponyboy, I am not finished, please sit _down_!" the judge cried. "As I was _saying_…"

X X X X

**A/N**: I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really am. What could he possibly finish saying? Theories? (I am rather proud of my research for that particular bit – the coming up bit that is.)

This was so epic hard to write! Almost twice as long as my longest chapter before this one.

REVIEW! PLEASE! Reviewers with correct theories shall receive… MY GUINEA PIG! The ugly one. I keep the cutie


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N**: I've actually written another couple of chapters after this and so they'll be up after I bother proofreading them. I hate proofreading, but it's part of the job.

Thanks so much to all you reviewers especially, and to anyone who's stuck it out this long! That really means a lot.

X X X X

Evie waited quietly in a room that looked exactly the same as the one in which she had spoken with Steve previously, but was actually a few doors down. She had a good sense of direction, not that he knew it, and she could remember absolutely anything as long as it had something to do with a location. Steve never gave her enough credit for that. He didn't give her credit for a lot of things.

She heard the harsh grating of a prison door and looked up to see a guard escorting Steve into the small room. He looked grumpy – no, wait, he looked exactly the same as he always did. Evie was not going to waste time defending him. She wasn't going to be weak.

"What's that?" Steve asked, pointing at the beautiful earrings she wore.

Evie scoffed. "I should have known better than to expect a greeting. After all, I'm just your _girlfriend_."

Now he looked defensive. Good, maybe it would teach him a lesson or two in advantageous behaviour. "Uh… hi, Evie."

"Well, it's too late now!"

Steve backtracked. Evie was mad, clearly, and if he knew her correctly, she wouldn't tell him what she was mad about. Women… they made you guess everything and if you didn't guess fast enough they made like Sandy and shacked up with someone else. "Where did you get those?" he asked. "They look really nice."

"And I _don't _look nice?"

Steve blinked. This was dangerous territory… "Evie, those earrings look nice _on you_. _You_ always look nice. Why don't you tell me why you're here so we can talk about that instead of fighting. I'm not exactly a free man; I don't have all day."

Evie glowered at him while Steve just stared right back. "I was on the phone with Sandy," she started.

"You still keep in contact with that skank?"

"Yes, not that it's any of _your _business." Evie used her snootiest possible tone. Teach him his place, that's what Sandy had said. "I told her what you wanted me to do. I told her that you told me to find a bag with an –" The words "enormous stash of money" died on her tongue as she glanced at the guards standing around the perimeter of the room. "You told me to find this bag and give it to her boyfriend –"

"Ex boyfriend."

Evie glared at him. "You might think it's your place to treat me like your personal pet dog, but I for one'll have no part of it!" Her voice became shrill, and she smiled internally as Steve winced. "You give me nothing. You never have. I'm angry at you, Steve Randle, really angry at you!"

It was all Steve could do not to laugh. Evie did look rather amusing, standing there with her arms crossed over her chest and watching her make up fail miserably at disguising the red flush creeping over her face. "Why are you angry with me?" he questioned firmly.

"You don't appreciate me!" Evie cried. "It was my birthday a month ago, but you didn't remember! Do you know what you did?"

Steve's mouth was becoming very dry. He loved Evie. She was being annoying right now, but he really loved her, and he was trying. "Evie, I…"

She held up her hand. "Spare me! We had a date planned. We were going to go out to dinner and to the Nightly Double and then back to my place. And then I get a call saying you're canceling, because you had to watch the football with Soda!"

"Evie… why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Evie sniffed delicately and dabbed at her tear-filled eyes, wanting to catch the liquid before it ran and ruined her make up. "I figured I'd give you another chance. And I will, but you're gonna have to earn it! I called Sandy, and she gave me some very good advice."

_That advice probably being to always use protection_, Steve thought privately. Sandy was probably up in Florida with a stomach the size of a beach ball, spending all her time in a bathtub because she was too hot to get out, wishing she hadn't dumped Soda so she could at least have someone to give her sponge baths and massages. He probably would have done it, too. The idea was strangely amusing, but not something to mention to Evie. He wouldn't be caught dead giving her a sponge bath. "What advice was that?"

"Time's up," said a guard at the worst possible moment. He walked over and grabbed Steve's arm rudely, while another was ushering Evie to the other exit.

Evie was in more of a position to brush them off. She turned back to Steve and stated, with a strange sense of triumph, "She told me men have two things on their minds: their joystick and where to put it. So until you start treating me right, Steve Randle, you better expect a hell of a lot more of your cash to be spent on me. I damn well deserve it!"

The door crashed shut behind him, but Steve's mind was still overrun with insults. He knew the Curtises were in court today because some idiot police officers thought Darry was abusive, and that stupid broad had gone and spent their money on _jewelry_! And he knew he'd better not ever see Sandy again, or he'd have a third charge of assault stacked against him. It wasn't like Soda had been the one so selfish that he had gone and cheated on her. Steve wondered whether Sandy would have even told him she was cheating if she didn't have the bun in the oven and an easy getaway option from whatever wrath Soda was incapable of harbouring. Oh, Steve couldn't wait until he got back to his cell. He needed to punch something, and his thin mattress seemed a better option than these guards.

X X X X

It felt as though his ears were filled with cotton. No. No, they couldn't do this! This didn't just mean he was getting thrown into some family that might be able to throw money at him but couldn't possibly muster the strength to truly care; this meant that Soda was breaking his promise to Pony. And that just didn't seem acceptable.

When he'd made that promise, Soda had been assuming that at best, they'd all get to stay together, and at worst, he and Ponyboy would be going to the same home. He still remembered promising that even if they were split up he'd find his way back, but he hadn't really thought about that as a possibility until now. The judge said he'd be transferred to the care of the state… well, the state was a pretty big place. He could try, but running away didn't look quite so feasible now.

He was holding his breath, but this time it wasn't because of anything related to asthma. Dimly, he heard Pony stand up and yell at the judge, but it didn't quite register. What if Pony was angry at him? What if he didn't trust him anymore? Soda knew now that it had been a stupid promise to make, and he was paying for it.

The judge snapped at Pony. That horrible man… he had no right to snap at Pony. No one did. Soda had never hated anyone in his life, not even the father of Sandy's baby, whoever that was; but he came perilously close to hating that judge.

"As I was _saying_," the old Soc continued in a haughty tone, "there is provision in the law for cases in which the removal of the individual would cause undue hardship for the community – or, in this case, family – outweighing the need for the removal of the person in question. Therefore, I rule that Sodapop Curtis is released into the charge of his former guardian for a period not exceeding six months, in which time the family is to come up with sufficient funds to cater for an extended hospital stay. If, after this period of time they have not raised the funds, or if the family is unable to pay for medical care within this period, he will be turned over to the State regardless. Should the family raise the funds by the end of this period, than permanent guardianship of Sodapop will go to Darrel Curtis."

Soda frowned as the judge finished, and he saw a similar expression on Pony's face. Darry's face, however, had split into a wide grin, and that alone gave Sodapop courage enough to allow a tiny shimmer of hope to return. "So… what happened?" he asked, almost scared of the possible response.

"We won," said Darry, hugging both his brothers for what must have been the hundredth time that day, "sort of."

Soda broke into a smile that felt so wide it was a wonder his face did not split apart. When he had heard those horrible words, the words that had sentenced him to months of uncertainty for his brothers and fear of what kind of home he would be forced into, he had felt absolutely lost, alone even before he had gone anywhere, while he was still in a room with the members of his family. Now he was filled with a relief so tangible he could almost taste it. They won. They had _won_. He could stay with his brothers, and he didn't even care that there was a "sort of" tacked onto the end of the deal.

As one, the family stood and walked out of the room they had spent the last few hours being interrogated in, the room they had been ripped apart in and then finally put back together. Two-Bit was standing right next to the door, and judging by the look on his face, he had been unable to eavesdrop on the proceedings. He saw the faces of the Curtises as they left though, and his own smile began to creep back up to match those of the three brothers. "You won?" he asked, almost not daring to believe it.

"Yeah," said Darry. Soda didn't think he had seen Darry smile uninterrupted for this long in weeks.

"Sort of," Pony clarified. Two-Bit looked confused, but he let it go. He was practically part of this family, and he, like Darry, Soda and Pony, only cared that they remained together.

"Two-Bit, listen," said Darry, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at the ground. "You really stuck it out for us. Thank you."

"Do I get a kiss as a reward?"

Darry looked up, confused. Then he saw the look on Two-Bit's face, and he glared. "No, you don't!" he said loudly.

Two-Bit shrugged. "That's okay. I'd rather have Soda kiss me. Then I can tell all the girls, and they'll kiss me just because it's basically kissing him." Soda looked suitably mortified. "Seriously!" the joker continued. "Ever since you came to live with me, I haven't been able to get a single girl. So I want you out of my house by six, I was only holding out till now because I'd hoped the judge would send you someplace far away, preferably Oregon."

Soda punched him lightly on the arm. He didn't feel like getting in a proper tussling match right then, partly because he was scared of having a second asthma attack, partly because Darry would kill him for fighting in the courthouse, but mostly because he was just too happy.

X X X X

**A/N**: Okay, you all got your Curtis brothers togetherness fix. But I have plans, I have plans… plans and two extra chapters waiting to be posted. Don't go anywhere!

And review. Please. Theories – what shall happen next? There was a mild clue last couple of chapters, but it was kinda subtle. Still, I love theories. Correct ones get my computer's broken wireless internet port (I have to get up and plug it in, and the plug's kinda broken too so I have to hold it in a certain position while I post. It sucks).


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N**: My modem died, and apparently the biggest city in the country isn't metropolitan enough to have stores that open on the weekend.

Thanks so much to all you reviewers! I love each and every one of you in the most non stalker way possible!

X X X X

Pony rode home from the courthouse with Two-Bit's family so he could finally have a smoke. All that stress had finally become too much, and he felt that he deserved one. Maybe he'd get a good night's sleep for a change.

Between the three of them, Pony, Two-Bit and Mrs Mathews smoked their way through the remainder of his weekly pack, talking and laughing and enjoying finally having the stress taken off their shoulders. Ponyboy hadn't felt this at ease since before Johnny and Dally died. A sudden thought came to him then. He'd lost four people within a year, two at a time, he had adults he didn't know constantly trying to take him away from the two people he had left in his family, his house had burned down and he'd jut discovered his favourite past time, the one he had thought nothing more than an expensive habit, was actually slowly killing the person he loved more than anyone. Did other people have this life? Did the rich, west side kids really have troubles? He knew Cherry had said they did, but he wasn't sure how much he believed her anymore. She didn't have his life. She didn't know what he went through.

He shook himself free of his thoughts. They were horrible thoughts. Cherry didn't know what he went through, so how could he pretend to presume he knew what she went through? She might have lost so much more, but never wanted to tell him.

He sighed. His thoughts were heading swiftly down what Soda called the "woe is me" path. Those ideas had no place in his head after he had just been told his life might finally be heading back on track. He resolved to celebrate, and to not dwell on things he had no control over.

X X X X

Soda was enjoying the drive home immensely. He had always loved driving because it made him feel free. It gave him a sense of power that nothing else could. In fact, if Darry had not been in the car, Sodapop probably would have been off towards one of the roads he knew through his boss, the ones the fuzz never stopped at and no cars ever came on. Instead, sharp corners and quick acceleration would have to suffice.

"Soda, would you please slow down?" Darry requested, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "I don't want my celebration of getting to keep my brothers with me to turn into my funeral. Then you'd definitely be going to a foster home."

"Relax, Dare," said Soda happily. "I'm a better driver than you give me credit for. Hey, you know what the judge said?"

"He said a lot of things, none of which I want to repeat right now."

"About me, how you'd have to come up with so many dollars to keep me."

Darry looked out the window. "I don't want you to worry about that, Soda, I'll sort it out."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking, about that second job –"

"He also said technically you're under the State now," interrupted Darry. "I've got you on loan. That means they'll be watching you a hell of a lot more closely, and they'd kill me if I let you have a second job. You ain't getting one, Soda, face it."

Soda, who had been looking at Darry through his speech, swerved back onto the road to avoid hitting a tree. "You talk about me like I'm a library book."

"Yes, and that's exactly how they'll treat you, don't you forget it. So long as you stay with me you won't have that library book status, so you do everything you can to stay with me. That means _no second jobs_!"

Soda said nothing, and Darry's curiosity finally piqued. "Why do you want one so much, anyway?"

Soda was quiet for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not he should tell his brother. He knew telling him the reason why would completely change Darry's whole perception of him. Darry thought he was stupid and Soda knew it. He didn't care. He actually liked that Darry thought of him that way. It was better than Pony, who had always thought that Soda was actually just as smart as Darry and himself, but didn't try. Soda much preferred dumb to lazy.

He decided to tell him. Darry would get it out of him anyway, and it wasn't like he'd hate him or anything. "I've been offered a job," he said, pulling the car up outside Two-Bit's house.

"You have?" Darry said, clearly surprised. Soda knew why. After all, who on earth would go out of their way to offer a job to a seventeen year old dropout who sold books? "What, at another bookstore?"

"No, it's a bit different," said Soda, looking at his hands. He didn't know why he was so shy. Darry would be over the moon with pride – or so he hoped. The other side was that Darry would laugh, tell him he could never do the job even if he had permission to go for it, that he was too dumb. It wasn't likely, but still possible. Well, there wasn't anything to do but try, and if he didn't, he'd hate himself forever. "I've been offered a job as a medical researcher."

Darry was quiet for a few moments, and Soda chanced a glance upwards. Darry looked almost… confused. Why would he be confused? "Are you serious?"

Soda's tiny hopeful smile slipped. Darry didn't think he was good enough. Well, what more could he hope for?

Darry suddenly looked horrified. "I didn't mean to sound so callous," he said, trying to erase his mistake. "I was just… surprised. It's great news, Soda. Really."

Soda smiled. "It's okay," he said quietly. "I know why you think that. I couldn't even pass a high school test on anything to do with science, it's not likely anyone would give me a job most doctors aren't qualified enough for. But I was offered it."

"Then I'm proud of you. Tell me about it."

"One of the doctors at the hospital… I told him I didn't want to deal with asthma at all any longer. I wanted it gone, permanently."

"Of course you do," Darry put in quietly. How many nights had he lain awake thinking the same thing?

"He said he didn't think much was happening about it," Soda continued. "It's not a high priority on anyone's list. There are loads of people who suffer from it, but most of them don't get that sick, so there's not as much government money in it as some other things. He said he thought young people would do a better job; they're more passionate, and I care a lot for… obvious reasons."

"I'm really proud of you, Sodapop," Darry said, and Soda beamed. It was the icing on the cake for him. Even if he was only with his family on loan, he was with his family; and Darry hadn't just laughed the idea of him as a medical researcher off, ludicrous as it was even to Sodapop. At that moment, life couldn't be any sweeter.

X X X X

"Turn left here."

Ponyboy was seconds away from freaking out. Soda had taken him driving again, but this time it wasn't on deserted roads where there was plenty of room for error and the worst that could happen was he hit a tree or a parked car at fifteen miles an hour. No, now he was driving on real roads, with people and cars and dogs and traffic lights…

To top it off, Soda was being considerably less than Driving Instructor of the Month. In fact, Pony would say he spent more time with his eyes shut than open, leaning against the window and looking like he felt as safe as if it had been Darry at the wheel instead of Pony. Pony carefully turned left – it was a four lane highway and the man turning at on his left looked quite angry at his poor driving. He was too sharp on the corners, said Soda. He kept drifting to the right, said Soda. Well, what did he expect? Pony knew he shouldn't be on this road. He knew he wasn't ready.

He saw a boy who looked about eight in another car raise his arms and shake his head, as though questioning what the hell that idiot was doing on the road. Pony's already sweat slicked fingers obtained a new coat of moisture. If an eight year old was doing that, then it meant he was a worse driver than he had even imagined.

Soda jumped and went into another coughing fit as Pony again drifted too far to the right, hitting the curb violently before swinging too far left, earning him an angry beep from another car. "You're drifting, Pone," Soda managed to say between coughs.

Pony's hands tightened on the wheel. "I know that, Soda! Can we go home yet? I'm obviously not doing as well as you expect and you're not teaching me." They shouldn't have gone out today. They were both tired and stressed; Soda had been horribly sick the night before none of the Curtis brothers had gotten enough sleep. Darry had been snapping at anything and everything that morning and so when Soda had suggested they go driving Pony had jumped on the idea, thinking it was just an excuse to get away from Darry. He hadn't actually known Soda was serious.

Soda coughed a couple more times, making Pony's already frayed nerves rise again. He shouldn't have been out in the traffic with all the trucks belching smoke and Pony knew it. He was having a bit of a pride attack; after the battering it had taken yesterday Soda was probably trying to reestablish himself in his own mind. "Fine, we'll go home," he muttered. His voice was becoming hoarse.

Pony gritted his teeth. There was nowhere to pull over anywhere he could see; the best he could do was turn into a road on the right hand side. There was no way he was driving all the way home. He'd had enough.

The gears grated roughly as Pony tried to turn into the road, and it shocked him so much that he lost control for a moment and swung into the left lane. "Don't –" Soda coughed again. "You'll destroy the car."

"I know," Pony said tersely, finally stopping outside a yellow house that was falling apart.

Soda stared at him as though he were looking in a mirror and finally seeing what he'd been like all this time. "Oh, Pony, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I expected way too much."

Pony finally summoned courage enough to let go of the wheel, and he removed the seat belt with a feeling of relief. "It's okay," he muttered. "But I ain't driving this thing another inch."

Soda smiled. "Fair enough."

They swapped seats and Soda started the car, pulling out onto the side street with a lot more grace than Pony had managed to park with.

Ponyboy now rested back against the seat, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the throbbing headache that he was now able to concentrate on. All in all, he decided, he was having a terrible day.

He opened his eyes once again when the car gave a very similar jerk to the ones it was giving when he was behind the wheel and had just realized he was drifting. Soda was trying not to cough, but the effort was fairly substandard; his body was jerking oddly and his eyes were watering. Ponyboy's level of agitation rose abruptly once again. "Soda, I think – are you okay?"

Soda didn't give him much of an answer, not that Pony had expected one. They were back on that highway, and now Soda seemed to be doing about as well a job at staying in his lane as Pony had. Needless to say, it was a pretty nerve wracking time. "Soda, I think you need your inhaler."

"Took it," Soda gasped, and Pony knew it was true. He'd been taking an awful lot of that stuff. "Doesn't – doesn't work."

Pony swallowed nervously. "I think you should pull over."

"Can't," Soda said. Pony grabbed the wheel as he swerved dangerously towards the left.

"Use your hazard lights! I don't care where we are; pull this thing over right now!"

Soda glanced at him through watering eyes but did as he said, pulling as far into the right hand lane as he could and turning on the hazard lights. Pony could see a few people passing them give them rude hand gestures, and there were several horns sounding from behind, but he didn't really care.

"There's a gas station just up there," he said. Soda had given up trying to hold in his coughs and was now bent over double in the seat, hugging himself as though by doing that he could keep the air in. "You need to sit up," Pony said as gently as he could. Inside he was freaking out, but outside he would do nothing to upset Soda. "I'm going to call Darry, see if he can get us." Soda nodded into his knees. "Soda, sit up."

Soda obeyed this time and his coughs lessened somewhat, giving Pony the courage to leave him alone. "Keep using your inhaler; it might start to work," he advised, getting out of the car and starting off towards the gas station.

It wasn't a long walk, maybe three minutes, but it felt like a lot longer to Pony. He felt sick. He was absolutely sickened by what he had done.

There wasn't any doubt in his mind that Soda was only this sick because Pony had spent the drive home yesterday smoking. Sure, Two-Bit and his mother had been smoking too, but it wasn't like they were the ones sleeping with Soda. He'd probably gotten used to being healthy and feeling better, now he was right back where he'd been before Pony had stopped – worse even, because he wasn't used to it any longer.

Ponyboy picked up the phone and inserted a quarter. It rang for a few seconds before it was picked up by someone that sounded young and female – definitely not Darry.

"Rachel? It's Ponyboy. Can I talk to Darry?"

The youngest Mathews yelled for Darry before he heard the sound of the television being switched on and Rachel laughing in the background. "Hello?" Darry said.

"Darry, it's me."

"_Ponyboy_? What're you – I thought you were off driving with Soda."

"I am – was," Pony corrected himself. "Look, I'm on a payphone, I don't have much time, can you come pick us up?"

He heard Darry sigh. "You didn't total the car, did you?" he asked, sounding like he dreaded the answer.

"No, it's just that Soda decided to take me out on this highway, and I can't drive on a highway, and he was being a terrible instructor –"

"Why don't you just ask Soda to drive?"

"He's having an attack." Darry groaned. "He tried driving, he's… he ain't much better than me, Dare. So please pick us up?"

Pony could almost see Darry biting his lip. "I can't Pone, you guys have the car, Mrs Mathews is at work and Two-Bit's off somewhere with some girl. Said meeting with her was essential to his health… detox his system from the stress yesterday or some other bull."

"Well, can you walk?"

Darry sighed again. "Where are you?"

Pony looked up at the sign for the gas station and told him.

"Pony, do you have any idea where that is?" Darry groaned. Pony shook his head, forgetting that Darry was on the phone and could not see him. "It'd take me years to walk there. Look, just… You're either gonna have to wait until Soda feels better or drive yourself."

"_Darry_!"

There was a momentary silence on the other end. "Is it… is it really that bad?" Darry asked quietly.

Pony was feeling decidedly angry at Darry, and stated fumingly, "I ain't a doctor, Darry. You of all people should know that Soda having an attack ain't exactly _good_."

"Don't get that tone with me," Darry said warningly. Pony made a face he was glad Darry could not see. "See if Soda's got any cash, if he does call a cab. Otherwise just drive to the nearest bus stop, or at least somewhere I can walk to, okay?"

"Fine," Pony growled. They said very quick, slightly snippy goodbyes and Pony hung up, beginning to walk back towards the car.

It was only yesterday that they had officially been declared a family again, and they were already fighting. After so many hours hoping and praying he'd stay with Darry, here Pony was, walking along a highway and thinking horrible things about him. He couldn't deny that he was furious with Darry. How could he be so uncaring? Pony was alone and trying to do the best he could with Soda sick and sitting by himself in the middle of a highway. And Darry just sat at home telling him to sort it out.

Somewhere deep in the back of his mind Pony knew what he was thinking was nothing more than the silly results of a tired and overstressed mind. There really wasn't anything Darry could do; they had been driving for quite a while and he wasn't really surprised they had gone so far away from home. But on the surface he was fuming with anger, and it felt good. Darry cared about no one but himself.

He got back to the car to find Soda sitting in much the same position he had left him, leaning back in the seat with his arms wrapped around his sides. He wasn't coughing any longer; his eyes were closed and Pony felt a moment's panic as he thought he might be unconscious.

"Soda?" he asked, and Soda opened his eyes. "I called Darry… everyone's taken cars everywhere and he can't walk this far." Soda didn't respond. "How're you feeling?"

"Like trash," Soda said, coughing on the last word. It was only one small cough, but it cemented in Pony's mind that Soda wouldn't be driving them anywhere.

"You have any money on you?" he asked, remembering Darry's suggestion of a taxi. Soda shook his head and Pony sighed. It was time to be what he never was. It was time to look out for Soda the way he was always looking out for him. "Okay, swap seats. I'll drive."

When Soda got out of the car, Pony picked up the discarded inhaler from where his brother had left it on the seat. He puffed it into the air, only mildly surprised when he didn't see the white cloud he should have seen. No wonder it wasn't working. The damn thing was empty.

He walked back around to the driver's side, being mindful of the traffic around him.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. He was scared, scared almost beyond reckoning, but what scared him more was the thought of not getting Soda medicine. His final hope that they might be able to just wait until Soda was well enough to drive had been dashed when he realized he hadn't been getting anything from the inhaler.

"Soda, you gotta tell me where to go," said Pony as he buckled himself in, carefully turning on the car and remembering how it had jerked forward frighteningly when he had started it earlier. Mercifully, he didn't jump forward into the oncoming traffic the second his fingers touched the key, but started the car just like Soda and Darry would. He switched off the hazard lights and pulled back into the traffic.

A thought came over him as he drove through the sea of cars. He realized he felt powerful. And wasn't that why Soda loved driving? It gave him power. And boy, did it feel good!

"Pone!" Soda croaked; apparently his voice hadn't quite recovered from the many coughing fits he'd had through the day. Ponyboy slowed down; he'd been about to drive right through a Mustang. On the list of things to do if you wanted to make Darry angry, that was pretty high.

"Turn right here," Soda said, coughing again. Pony was glad; right turns were so much less scary than left.

"Hey Soda?" Pony asked after a while.

"Hm?"

"How d'you feel… you know, about Steve?"

Soda opened eyes that had remained, for the most part, shut since he got into the seat. "He's my best friend."

"No," groaned Ponyboy. How to approach this… "About him… attacking those boys."

"Oh," said Soda. "I suppose… if someone were to attack him – or you, for that matter – I'd get nasty too." Pony pondered this for a while, but was spared answering when Soda changed the subject. "Watch your speed; you keep going over the limit."

Pony wasn't exactly surprised that it was the last thing Soda said. He nestled himself into the corner between the seat and the door and shut his eyes, finally looking peaceful.

It wasn't exactly peaceful for Ponyboy. Soda had been right: his speed was fluctuating between far too fast and far too slow, made more difficult by the hills. He didn't want to wake Soda up; it was the quietest he'd been for twenty four hours and Pony wasn't willing to end it. He laughed to himself. He wanted Soda quiet so he knew he wasn't having a hard time breathing, but on the more selfish side, he liked the peace.

He slammed on the brakes as a group of five or so people ran out onto the street in front of him. Soda woke with a start, looking blearily at Pony as though questioning why the abrupt end to his nap. Pony didn't respond, just continued looking outside.

"Something up?" Soda muttered, sounding very groggy for someone who had only had a few minutes of sleep.

"Yeah," said Pony slowly. "Is that… is that _Curly_?" It looked as though Curly Shepard was fending off four Socs with his bare hands, and the fight had spilled out onto the street. They were moving too fast to be absolutely sure of the one greaser's identity, but it certainly _looked _like Curly.

Soda peered out the window. "I think it is," he said. "Why's he there? This ain't anywhere near Shepard ground. C'mon, let's go help him."

Pony grimaced as Soda opened the door. "I don't think…"

Soda paused, turning slowly back to Ponyboy with a frighteningly ugly look on his face. Pony would have leapt backwards had he not been sitting in a car, but as it was, he found he couldn't hold Soda's gaze for long. "You sound like our mother."

That was all Sodapop said before shutting the door and running off to help Curly. Pony remained in the car, his heart hammering wildly and confusion filling his mind. Why had Soda reacted so horribly? And what had he meant by the comment about their mother?

X X X X

**A/N**: Uh oh kiddies, Soda is grum-pay. You'll find out why he's being a complete stemrot, but any theories? They're like Cal's chocolate fix, only better.

Please review! Correct theories earn themselves… a personalised felt tip PEN! It even writes on glass!

Yes. Cal has been cracking the Love Actually. Which reminds me… the heat destroyed my bloody DVD player! GAH! I can't get my bloody Avatar (TV show, not film) fix, and my friend JUST leant me _Friends_. Am I whinging for no reason? Absolutely! When you get 42 degree summer days (that's Celsius, mind you, this chick's Australian and proud) feel free to complain in my review box too. (I won't kill you, I promise. Angry tirade over now.)


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N**: I'm sorry this took so damn long! I totally underestimated school. (And I'm doing this instead of homework.) And I've recently been really sick, so I haven't felt much like typing. Those are my excuses, not that you're interested! On with the chapter!

Thanks so much for everyone reviewing! I love you guys!

X X X X

Ponyboy jumped out of the car and ran after Soda, towards the scuffle that was turning into a fully fledged fight.

"COME ON!" Curly screamed wildly, standing up on top of a dustbin and almost inviting the other boys to tackle him. "_Come and get it, you dirty rotten_ –"

Someone slammed their shoulder into the dustbin, making Curly trip and land on the sidewalk. He got straight back up and ran at the kid who did it, a young looking guy who seemed almost scared to fight Curly back. Soc-in-training, Pony supposed.

In fact, they were all young looking. Pony was having very little trouble fighting the two that had rushed him as he approached, and even Soda, who had almost no experience in a fist fight and had been coughing his guts up minutes before, had an easy job. He was almost a foot taller than the kid, who was actually one of the largest in the group, and Pony saw the young Soc's attitude go from infallible to almost non-existent in a matter of seconds. Soda decked him easily and ran towards the larger of the two having a go at Pony.

Curly had his foot on one's neck, more as a symbol of power than anything else. That was Curly for you – he was the most territorial person Pony had ever met, including Tim. They weren't in Shepard territory now, but as far as Curly was concerned, Shepard territory and greaser territory were basically the same thing.

Pony ducked a punch easily. "What are you, twelve?" he cried, grabbing a hand that seemed to be trying to claw at his face.

"CHEAT!" the kid screamed. "You greasers are all cheaters! You cheater greasers!"

"Look, kid, beating you in a fight ain't cheating," Pony said, almost laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. "Y'all just stink."

The younger boy ripped his hand free and tried to kick out. Ponyboy dodged, and the kid was swiftly pushed to the ground by Sodapop. Realizing they were vastly outmatched, the boys started running, screaming obscenities they probably didn't know the meaning of. "What was that about?" Pony asked Curly.

Curly kicked at the stray lid of a bottle of Pepsi. "Said we cheated at the rumble," he mumbled, looking at the ground almost as though he were ashamed. "Dunno why. They weren't even _there_!" Curly was taking everything a bit too personally.

"I never met them," said Ponyboy quietly, looking off in the direction they left in.

"Probably because they're still at junior high," Curly scoffed. "Bet even my sister could've taken them alone."

"What d'you mean, _even_? Angela's plenty good; I wouldn't want to fight her."

Curly smiled nastily. "I know. She ain't anywhere close to as good as me." He stretched his arms up in the air, groaning with satisfaction at how it felt. "He okay?"

"Who?" Pony followed Curly's gaze to the car, where Soda was leaning against the door with his head buried into his arm. He sighed. "You want a ride, Curly?"

Curly seemed to lose what little interest he had in Soda's wellbeing and return to the cool but selfish kid Pony knew and – despite Darry's best intentions – liked. "Oh, Lord yes. I hitched here."

Ponyboy didn't ask why. "You wanna drive?" He held out the key enticingly. If Curly were anything like his brother, and Pony knew he _was_, he'd jump at the opportunity to show off.

Sure enough, Curly grabbed the key and ran off, Pony not far behind him. He wished now that Soda hadn't fought, but after that last outburst… It had hurt Pony greatly. He missed his mother desperately, and he loved Soda so much that hearing something negative about their mother come from his lips was unthinkable. What was worse was that Soda had said that Pony being like his mother was a bad thing… it was all so _confusing_! Pony resolved to just get home, wait until Soda was better, then find out what was bothering him so much. Pony knew Soda well enough to know this hadn't just come out of nowhere.

Soda let Pony climb into the middle before getting in himself and leaning back against the window; Pony knew he was trying to sleep again. He wasn't coughing like he was before, but there was a certain noise and speed of his breaths that made Pony nervous.

"So yeah, we were all in this guy's store, and Tim's swiped probably around half his merchandise already, no exaggeration, and he still notices nothing. Then Jake pulls a knife, you know, just to see how he'll react, and he pulls a heater on us. We got out pretty quick, but he didn't notice the stuff…"

Pony ignored Curly, still trying to listen to Soda breathe. He was pretty sure he was asleep now, and he wasn't certain whether or not that was a good thing.

"So if you ever need a new can opener, or frying pan - yeah we got that too, can you believe it? – you know where to go." Curly took his hands off the wheel briefly as he fiddled around in his pockets.

"What the hell are you doing?" Pony asked, a little harshly.

Curly put his elbows on top of the wheel, sticking a smoke in his mouth and flicking the lighter. Pony slapped it out of his mouth. "What are you doing? You can have one too, if you want…"

_Yeah, I want_, cried Pony's brain. "You ain't smoking in here!"

Curly stared at him before his eyes slid momentarily to Sodapop. "Oh, come on, _he_ ain't smoking it!"

"Look, you can put it away or get out of the car!" Pony said firmly.

Curly stared straight ahead for a minute before he started to laugh. He always did have an odd sense of humour, and honestly, that was what Pony really liked about him. "Why'd you hitch here?" Pony asked.

Curly shrugged. "Partly 'cause I have friends. Mostly 'cause I felt like it."

Typical Curly. He'd always had this "I can do whatever I want" streak, even though he couldn't. Sure, he might go around stealing things and pulling knives on unsuspecting shopkeepers, but he could never betray his gang. Partially because he'd never want to, but partially because Tim would kill him – figuratively speaking, of course.

Soda shifted in his sleep and gave a strange snuffly sound that was almost a cough, but didn't quite make it. Pony turned back to Curly. "Can't we go any faster?" he asked.

Curly rolled his eyes. "Well, why didn't you _say _so?"

And with that, Curly sped down the streets with reckless abandon, laughing at the glares he received from children playing on the sidewalk and women tending their gardens. Pony's nervousness from when he and Soda had driven returned in full, and he tried to remind himself that this was a lot slower than Soda had been driving when he had taken him drag racing.

_But we hadn't been surrounded by children and corners then_, Pony thought.

"Are you sure you can drive this thing?" he asked, almost hesitant to be even a minor distraction.

"Are you kidding?" Pony regretted asking the question when Curly purposely screeched the tires going around a bend. Soda coughed in his sleep again, but didn't make any more noise than that.

Wait a minute… _no more noise_? Heart beating wildly, Pony put his hand on Soda's chest, waiting a few moments. Nothing. No movement.

Oh no. Not again. No, Pony wouldn't let this happen again. "Soda, WAKE UP!" he yelled, shaking his brother with perhaps a touch too much violence. He knew what Soda could sleep through.

Soda's eyes snapped open, and they clouded with slight panic as he realized he couldn't breathe. He grabbed Pony's hand and started to cough.

"Jesus, how can one person make so much noise?" Curly muttered. Pony glared at him, and he laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm only joking."

In Pony's opinion, Curly sometimes tried too hard to be his brother. He'd never say it to his face, and it was only rarely he saw this side of him, but right now he was showing it.

"We're here," Curly said, parking half in the driveway and half in Mrs Mathews' front lawn. "I'll walk from here. Thanks for the ride… I think."

Despite himself, Pony smiled as Curly loped away. As the member of a tightly knit gang who liked to think of himself as a bit of a writer, Ponyboy liked talking to people outside his group purely for the joy of understanding them. Darry didn't understand anyone that wasn't exactly like him, and Sodapop understood everyone that came in his path with no effort at all, but there was a certain quality in trying to understand and really thinking about other people that Ponyboy was pretty sure was his gift alone.

"Wait here," he muttered to Soda, running inside the house. It had been a while since he had gone running purely for pleasure. He'd have to do that later, once he was sure Soda was okay.

"Why the _hell _are you going through my stuff, Ponyboy Curtis?" Darry roared from doorway to the lounge where Pony was kneeling, hand deep in the bag Darry kept beside his bed.

Pony sat up, a sudden, unwelcome but perhaps valid idea in his mind. "Sodapop's inhaler's empty. Can you get him another one? He's in the car." Pony knew that Soda had probably been half delirious when he grabbed his hand, and before that he had wanted nothing to do with him. Pony didn't know why his brother had suddenly decided to hate him, but his words had been fairly clear. Once he was feeling better, he would not want anything to do with his little brother.

Pony swallowed the lump in his throat. Darry was going through his bag, muttering things that weren't exactly complimentary about the person sitting only a foot away from him. "I didn't park the car!" Pony cried indignantly. "It was Curly!"  
"And what the hell were you doing with Curly Shepard?" Darry yelled. "You were supposed to be on a driving lesson… if I find out Soda's having an attack because you two went to some… some bar or something with loads of smoke in the air you will be _very _sorry."

"You're just grumpy because you feel left out!" Pony screamed.

Darry stared at him incredulously. "_What_? What's there to be left out _of_? I already damn well know how to drive! I taught Soda to drive, not the other way round!"

"You're jealous because Soda's spending time with me, ain't you? We get to do all these great things together and you can't – you don't even want to be part of my life, do you?"

That was it. The truth was out. Pony watched Darry carefully, looking for any indication that what he said was true. He did feel a little like that, like Darry was just shoving him off with Sodapop to do everything, but his feelings weren't quite set in concrete yet. He was bluffing, trying to see what Darry's reaction would be.

Darry looked down at his hands momentarily before he stood – he might as well have been eight feet tall for how Pony was feeling at that moment. "I'm going to help Soda. Then you and me are going to have a talk."

Pony stewed while Darry was gone, feeling much like he used to about his family. He had thought Darry and he were getting along better, but he couldn't even be bothered to pick them up when Pony had asked, and the way he had just yelled at him spoke volumes. Even Soda was angry with him.

He sat down heavily on the couch, putting his head in his hands and exhaling heavily. He wasn't sure what he had done, but whatever it was, he'd try to fix. He hadn't sat in that interrogation chair for that long only to lose his family to some stupid mistake he couldn't even remember.

"Soda's going to sit in the car for a bit."

Ponyboy jumped; he hadn't heard Darry come in. "What's bothering you, Pony?" the eldest Curtis continued. "That ain't like you."

Pony glanced sidelong up at Darry. "Soda got real mad at me before. I dunno why…"

Darry sat down heavily, sighing. "That ain't got nothing to do with you and me, though. What's up with you? Talk to me."

"You just kept getting mad at us this morning," Pony said lamely, knowing it wasn't the whole reason. Talking to Darry was still quite intimidating.

Darry shook his head in hopelessness, looking down at the ground. "I had no sleep, you had no sleep, and you and I both know Soda never washed the dishes like he was supposed to. I had to do it, like I always do. Of course I was getting mad at you! But that's still no reason to say what you said, Ponyboy."

"I know," said Pony in a small voice.

"Then what?"

"Like I said," Pony continued after a pause, "you don't want to be a part of my life."

"That's crazy Pony –"

"Well, maybe it ain't!" Pony cried. "Maybe that's how I see it. You work so hard that you never have time to relax and do stuff with us."

Darry put his head in his hands. "Maybe you're too young to understand," he said slowly. "I have to do those things. You heard what the judge said; if I don't get enough money Soda's going to a foster home."

Pony looked down, trying to hide from Darry that his eyes were suddenly wet with tears. "That's another thing. You never have any thoughts just about me. It seems like all you care about –" He stopped. He couldn't say it.

"Ponyboy." Darry put his hand on Pony's shoulder, but the youngest Curtis jerked away. "Tell me." Ponyboy said nothing. "Pony, how am I supposed to change anything about myself if I can't find out what part you don't like? Because I'll do it. I'll change."

"All you care about is Soda!" Pony cried suddenly. "There, you happy? All you care about is Soda."

"D'you think I'm making excuses?" Darry asked desperately. "Soda _will _be sent to a foster home, Pony, you heard him say it!"

Pony was shaking his head silently, still looking down. "You don't get it," he muttered. "I don't want Soda to go to a foster home. I want you to think of something other than that." He looked slowly up at Darry, taking in his bewildered expression. Darry said nothing, and Ponyboy knew he couldn't do what he had asked. He didn't know how to think of anyone but Soda. "Forget it," he mumbled brokenly. If he were back home, he would get up now and go back to his room. But he wasn't home. He didn't have a home. He knew home was where the heart was, but right then he wanted the type of home with walls and closed doors. He didn't want to put up with Darry or Soda at this point.

X X X X

**A/N**: Aw, Ponyboy needs a hug! To hug Ponyboy, click that big green button down there. You know, the one that says "Review". C'mon, I am doing this for free!


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N**: After stupidly going swimming at a friend's place and then spending the night watching Bridget Jones and 17 Again (I do not like Zac Efron!! It was her choice! Besides, his name is now Chandler.) I've ended up a lot sicker than I was and am now very bored. If anyone I read would like to update it would be very much appreciated.

Thanks so much to the wonderful happy-filled reviews! I opened my email inbox that night and it was like, 14 unread messages and a lot of them were from FFN, so I was thrilled. Also thanks to everyone who added me/this to their subscription/ fav lists! If you'd like to review too I certainly wouldn't object

X X X X

Pony lay awake for a long time that night. Darry had left long ago to pick up some extra hours at his second job and he hadn't returned since, so it was just him and Sodapop in the Mathews' lounge that night. Maybe it was lucky that Pony had this opportunity to talk things over with Soda without interference from Darry, but right now all Pony wanted to do was crawl deep into a hole in which he could ignore all his hurt feelings and hope they go away. After all, Soda would have fallen asleep long ago.

He was proven wrong as Soda shifted against the back of the couch he was propped up against. "Can't sleep, Ponyboy?" he asked quietly.

Though his voice was quiet, it sounded impossibly loud in the silent dark of the night. "How did you know?" Pony answered with a question of his own.

In the dim glow from the moon, stars and streetlights streaming in from the window, he could make out his brother's million dollar smile. "Because I know you so well," Soda answered. "What's up?"

Pony couldn't hold his gaze. He wanted Soda mad again. He wanted him ranting and raving and throwing things and doing everything he hadn't done since he was a toddler – if he had done them at all. Because this calm normalcy almost led Pony to believe that Sodapop didn't remember what he had said. "You'd get mad," he muttered, looking up at the ceiling.

He didn't look at him, but he could tell Soda was frowning. "You know I wouldn't, Pone. You can tell me anything. You know that."

Pony sat up, trying to quash his anger and frustration deeper inside him. "You got angry at me today!" he cried, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes more as an excuse not to look at Sodapop than because he really needed to. "I was just trying to look out for you like you always look out for me, and you just ran off and said –" Somehow, if he didn't say it, it wouldn't be real. It was just a figment of his imagination until he admitted it out loud, and he really didn't want it to become something real.

Soda's smile slipped from his face, and Ponyboy knew that even though he had said nothing, he had still managed to get through to his brother. "Oh," was all the middle Curtis said for a few moments. "I remember now. I was sick and it made me say things I didn't mean. I'm really sorry, Pony."

Now Pony finally got the guts enough to turn and stare down Soda. He wanted the whole truth about the comment. He believed Soda when he said he'd only said it because he was sick and frustrated, but it had to have come from somewhere. "Come on, Soda. I know you said it for a reason. How come you were angry at Mom? I wouldn't think you'd still think about her like that."

Like he'd expected him to, Soda broke his gaze and stared instead down at the bedsheets. "I don't think about her like that," he mumbled.

"Evidently you _do_," Pony said firmly. If he didn't think about her that way, Soda would have just asked Pony what the hell he was talking about.

"Okay, what the hell does evidently mean?" Soda snapped unexpectedly.

They sat there for a moment, just staring at each other, and Pony sighed. "It means obviously. I ain't saying you didn't like Mom, Soda, or even that I liked her more. I want to know what I did that was like what she did that you didn't like… if that makes any sense at all. There were things you didn't like about her and things I didn't like about her; the way she made each of us clean the bathroom once a week, for instance." Wow. If he concentrated hard enough, Pony could imagine the same words coming out of Soda's mouth.

Soda calmed somewhat. "I'm sorry, Pony. I did love her. I still do. She really was a lot like you…"

"How's that?"

"Damn overbearing." Soda laughed. "I've just been getting real frustrated recently and I took it out on you. Remember when I decided to play Ponyboy and go running onto that track field?" It was such a horrible memory, but that didn't stop Soda smiling with amusement at how stupid he was.

"How could I forget?" Pony muttered. "I suppose I should thank you. I actually got time off school without being sick." Soda raised his eyebrows. "They didn't _let _me off really. I just didn't go, and they didn't notice. Darry did, but he didn't care; he was cutting too."

"Glad to be of service," Soda laughed. "Anyway, you remember how Mom wouldn't let me go back to school for ages? She wouldn't let me out of her sight. I know she loved me. She loved me enough to force me to sit on the couch forever… if it'd been Johnny or Steve they would've been back at school the second they got released. My mom wanted me around." He looked out the window, the glow of the moon making him appear eerily ethereal. "But she wasn't ever proud of me."

Pony's head shot around so fast he was surprised he didn't crick his neck. "Sure she was. She said she was all the time."

"No, she didn't, Pony," said Soda. He didn't sound bitter, only honest. "She might have said it a couple of times when she was talking about all of us, like she said she was proud of all three of us when she was talking to friends and stuff, but she never said it to me in particular. You and Darry'd come home with your A's in every subject and your football captaincy stories, and she'd give you so much attention and… and pride. There's something real special when someone you love succeeds. I feel it every time you do well in anything. She never got the opportunity to feel that for me because I couldn't do the stuff you could."

"So that's why you're mad at me?" Pony questioned. "Because I'm overbearing like Mom?"

"No, that's why I _was _angry at you. It was stupid, I know it. I ain't perfect, Ponyboy, I know it. I'm sorry."

Pony smiled, leaning over to give Soda a hug. "I already forgave you. I just wanted to know…"

"I know, Ponyboy."

X X X X

Soda stretched as he finished stacking the shipment of books his boss had ordered. They were mostly just extra copies of novels that had sold out recently – Ponyboy said most of the titles were some of his favourites, though Soda had no idea what any of them were about.

It was Wednesday, and Steve's hearing was drawing nearer. Soda had visited him earlier, and after a heartfelt greeting mainly consisting of, "Thank God you're not Evie", Steve had told him that the lawyer who was taking his case pro bono was expecting him to get off lightly as long as he stuck to the truth. He was young and had been driven to attack because of what those boys had done to his friend. Apparently that looked good to a judge.

"It's only the state getting stuck into me," Steve had said, poking at a dent in the table. "If that Soc scum tried suing me then they know we'd come right back and sue them for assaulting you."

"You sure about that, Steve?" Soda had asked. "They know we can't afford any court cases."

"Yeah, that's exactly why they're scared. They'd win the case against me no question, but they know the only way I could afford compensation or any other fees they throw at me is to sue them back and try to get some money. They're scared you'll help me out."

Law talk was damn confusing anyway, Soda thought as he wandered back behind the counter. Best thing to do was not to think about it.

He looked up as the bell atop the shop door sounded, but it wasn't any sort of customer. The man who entered was the man Soda needed to see, his very elderly boss.

"Afternoon, Mr Brumley," he greeted politely.

Mr Brumley stopped and gave Soda a deeply suspicious glare. There were many times Soda wondered whether his boss was just a little senile, and this was certainly one of them. Those sharp blue eyes were just creepy. "What d'you want, boy?" he asked in a voice that sounded like sandpaper. The old man wasn't in the best of health and Soda would not be the least surprised if he dropped dead tomorrow. It came out in his voice.

"Er, nothing," Soda mumbled, feeling a bit nervous under the scrutiny. The old man reeked of alcohol and cigarettes, and a hint of garlic could definitely be detected. If that man had a wife she'd have killed him long ago; Soda couldn't bear the thought of living with someone so… pungent. "Just a little thing, actually. I need the day off on Friday."

The scrutinizing glare intensified. "I gave you last Friday off. You also had Monday off. Then there were those other few days a couple of weeks ago…"

Soda grimaced. "I'm sorry, I just really need the day off," he insisted. Technically, he didn't _need _the day off like he had needed those others, but he wouldn't sit by and let his best friend go to his sentencing alone.

Mr Brumley was not impressed. He was almost standoffish, almost like a Soc. If there was one thing this crazy old man wasn't, it was standoffish. "You're not making your situation any better, son!" he said loudly.

Now Sodapop winced. "What situation is that?" he questioned stiffly.

"I'm no Westie," Mr Brumley began. "I don't have that much money. I'm getting old, and I need to think about my future."

_Your future_, Soda thought, almost laughing at the statement. He sounded like Darry did when he spoke about Pony's future college days.

"I came here to say I can't keep finding extra workers every time you decide it's a nice day to throw a coughing fit. I can't afford the money or the time any longer."

Soda felt his stomach drop. If he was saying what he thought he was saying, then Soda could safely assume that Darry was going to kill him. "I don't call in sick because it's a _nice day_!" he cried. "You should know that! We met in the goddamn hospital!"

"Don't you use language like that, boy!" Mr Brumley snapped. He pulled an envelope from his coat and put it down on the table. "You're my best driver but I sure could use a better worker. There's your check. I'm letting you go, Curtis."

**A/N**: Oh no! Soda got fired! Though let's be realistic; he had it coming… oh dear, the fans are going to kill me now.

Please please please review! Any theories? Correct ones receive… Oh I know! My detention for skipping the school swimming carnival! Yes, I got detention for being sick on carnival day. I hate school!


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N**: I'm baaa-aack! I'm blaming my absence on school, and it's NOT a cheap excuse. I've been up til half past one every morning with homework, and I have to catch the bus at seven (that's a ninety minute trip… grr…) so I honest to God have had no time.

Thanks so very much for the reviews! I… don't remember who I got them from… I've been creatively starved for so long!

X X X X

Darry didn't bother announcing himself as he walked in the front door, fully expecting the house to be empty, with the possible exception of Two-Bit. He, Rachel and Ponyboy should be in school, and Mrs Mathews and Sodapop would still be at work. Maybe he could get some quiet time and finally get to organizing his finances.

He walked through to the kitchen and almost jumped out of his skin when he saw Soda sitting at the table, eating a sandwich. "Hey, Darry," Soda said, not sounding quite as happy as usual.

Darry stopped staring and dumped his tool belt in the middle of the benchtop, pulling out a chair and sitting down opposite Sodapop. "You're home early," he observed.

"I could say the same about you," Soda said. There was an odd flatness in his tone that immediately had Darry on edge.

"It started raining over at the house I was working on," he explained. "They sent everyone home."

Soda shrugged, and Darry's curiosity and his worry grew. "What happened, Sodapop?"

Soda put his sandwich down on the plate with a little more force than was necessary. "I got fired," he mumbled.

"_What_?" Darry cried, but regretted it the moment he saw the shame on his little brother's face. "Sorry. But… why?"

Soda looked downwards. "Too many sick days," he said, mumbling again.

Darry didn't say anything at first, just watched Soda as he squirmed in his chair, clearly wanting to escape the guilt he was feeling at getting fired but not willing to be rude and leave while Darry wanted to talk. "You know, I got sacked from my first job," he said after a while.

Soda looked up, something akin to hope shining in his eyes. "Really? I thought you said you quit."

"I said that to avoid a verbal beating from Dad," Darry explained, smiling. "I was there a few months, then the boss let me close up the store. I put up the sign and was about to hit the lights when Dally came round, knocking on the door. I opened it for him… I think he said his girl at the time ran off with another man and he needed to cool off. Anyway, I let him hang out there while I finished closing, and the next day the boss sacks me for stealing merchandise."

Soda gaped. "Didn't he want you to pay for it or anything?" he asked.

"I told him it wasn't me, and he believed me. Then he fired me for not paying close enough attention to the customers."

Soda finally laughed, just happy he wasn't the only person in the world to be fired.

X X X X

Soda had never liked Mondays. Up until last year, as far back as he could remember, Mondays meant school. School meant being trapped in a classroom all day with nothing to do. Inactivity was always one of the worst forms of punishment for Soda. But even with those years of horrible memories, he was fairly certain Fridays would soon take over as his hated day of choice. It had taken only a fortnight for him to dread the word, because he knew it came hand in hand with court.

Steve's hearing was nothing short of draining for Soda, and he couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Steve. It had been much like a tennis match, watching one side of the courtroom condemn Steve and greasers in general, and then the other side took their turn painting Steve a little too well for complete honesty. Every time the prosecution came up, Soda instantly felt worried that Steve would be in the cooler for a long, long time, while every time the defence talked he wondered if maybe, just maybe, Steve might be let off the hook.

In the end he knew it could never happen. The judge had been glaring at Steve – and even Soda and Two-Bit in the audience – like they were less than dirt. He probably had some Soc for a kid who went around complaining about greasers. Well, that was how it was: the Socs had money and a good reputation, while the greasers had the opposite. You just had to ignore it and go on with your life.

Soda had not been too surprised when Steve was sentenced to thirty days in the cooler, and all he and Two-Bit had been able to do was wave as he was taken away. At least he had already served much of his sentence before the court date. He'd be back fixing cars in no time.

Darry would have liked to come and support Steve, but since he had already taken last Friday off and he didn't want to risk any disfavour with the boss with Soda's income temporarily missing, he thought it best to stay at work. Ponyboy went to school like normal, something Soda didn't blame him for. He didn't want his little brother in too many courtrooms. It seemed cruel to children, and besides, he had missed enough school.

Soda was thinking hard about his work situation. It wouldn't be long before the money situation became dire, and besides, he needed something to do. He had spent all day yesterday bored, with Darry at work, Steve in jail, and Two-Bit and Pony at school. He'd wandered around for a while, but there was no one else in the neighbourhood he knew, and since all the cars were gone, he couldn't travel over to the Shepard territory; it was just too far to walk, and the bus system didn't reach over there. Yes, he needed a job, for more reasons than just a paycheck.

He still had that job offer at the hospital, and he'd probably end up taking it, too, but he didn't think he'd be able to do anything. He knew nothing about the human body except that they had arms and legs and if red stuff was pouring out of them it was bad, and he didn't even know anything about asthma beyond his own experiences. He'd been so excited about being able to live a normal life he'd forgotten about the details.

Still, a paycheck was a paycheck, and what they were offering was more than at his previous job. Even if he was terrible at it, he might as well take it. The worst that could happen was that he get fired, and he'd done that before with no casualties. He could do it again.

For the moment, he wished he could take care of Steve's job while he was locked up. He and Steve both loved cars, and Soda wouldn't be able to stand it if Steve was fired for being a con and not being able to go into work. It would also have the upside of Soda actually being able to do what he loved for a change. That would be nice…

It was that thought that cemented in Soda's mind the decision to take the job at the hospital. It wasn't Steve or Steve's boss or anyone else from the DX who was stopping Soda getting a job there instead of in any stupid bookstore; it was Soda himself. He couldn't forgive himself if he went through life sitting on the sidelines, having not even tried to do anything about it. At least this way, he was trying to find a way to do what he loved.

After all, what kind of world was it in which the only thing he'd ever really wanted was the one thing his own body stopped him from getting?

X X X X

**A/N**: There you have it folks. Poor Stevie, I really love him at the moment! Things should really start moving now… believe it or not this ACTUALLY has a plot.

I shall now stand on my hind legs shamelessly begging for reviews. Any theories? Please, I love theories! Correct ones this week get... my poster collection! My mum made me take it down when it ripped all the paint from the walls.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N**: Wow, it's been, like, almost a month. I'm afraid I have to use the generic excuse of school, but please know I don't use it lightly. I really have been busy with school: I've had to do several all nighters, quit my job temporarily (and I need that job) and now that I have a two week "break" I've got five assignments, one of which is a ten page report, plus homework. I would have had less, in fact I told people I have less, but my school actually had the gall to mail me more homework ON MY VACATION. I have been DESPERATE to get back to writing; I'm feeling very creatively frustrated, but unfortunately this is how it's going to work for a bit.

On a brighter side, thanks to all reviewers SO much; re-reading your reviews has got me through a lot of failing grades. So thanks! And chapter 40! Wow! I honestly never thought it'd get this far.

X X X X

"So how's it been for you?"

Steve sighed involuntarily. He wasn't a pour-your-heart-out kind of guy, but he had always had to change a little when it came to Sodapop. He was probably the only person Steve was truly honest with – well, him and Evie. "It's pretty bad," he admitted. "I only got a week left at least… I'm sick to death of everyone in this place. They're all worse than Dally… either that or they're a guard."

Soda grimaced in sympathy. "You know I'd take your place if I could."

"Ugh," Steve said. "That'd mean I'd have to be you… no offence but I think I'd rather rot in prison than have to put up with your, er, familial relationships," he finished lamely.

Soda understood perfectly well what Steve was alluding to. "There's nothing wrong with Ponyboy," he said quietly. "He's a great brother, and I think if you gave him a chance –"

"Look, the kid annoys me, I'm sorry," Steve snapped, then instantly regretted it when Soda's face fell. He'd been great the past couple of weeks, from getting fired so he could attend Steve's trial (Soda told him it would have happened anyway, but Steve wasn't sure how much he believed him) to coming and visiting whenever he got the chance. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "I'm just… stressed." Soda managed a small smile, and Steve took this as permission to continue. "So, how's life outside going?" he asked, changing the subject.

Rather unexpectedly, Sodapop groaned. "Seriously? I'm exhausted. Pony's having nightmares, Darry's coming in from work late and banging around, that or Two-Bit comes in with some girl… one night they actually landed right across me and Pony before Two-Bit remembered he was living with other people now; then I wake up coughing, then I have to go to work." He smiled ruefully. "Other then that, great!"

"Ponyboy's having nightmares again?"

Soda nodded, his smile vanishing. "Yeah. It's come back since the trial – our trial – and they just won't seem to go away. I think he's scared of being taken away from us."

Steve recognized the danger signs: Soda was about to start gushing on about his "wonderful little brother". God, it was annoying when he did that. It was as though Ponyboy was Sodapop's only downside. "So what's your job like?" Steve asked, changing the subject yet again. He had to do it. He couldn't take another account on how amazingly wonderful the youngest Curtis brother was. He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he was in prison, for God's sake; he should at least be able to get away from the kid here.

"Well," said Soda, taking the bait, "it's pretty easy, mostly because I've got no idea what's going on." He smiled again. "I think that doctor who hired me is slightly cracked; should worry me, I guess, but I'm still alive."

Steve's face darkened. "I wish you wouldn't be so flippant about that," he said.

"Look, Steve, it's either that or live in a state of constant fear. I prefer this." His tone signaled finality.

Steve shifted awkwardly. Anything he said, it seemed, ended up in an argument. Come to think of it, this was exactly how Dally used to act every time he was jailed. Dally was right. It did things to you.

Soda coughed suddenly, and Steve winced. He knew it was next to impossible, but he wished Soda's job would go somewhere. It was nerve wracking to know that any minute his best friend could go from being perfectly healthy to being in danger of suffocation in a manner of seconds. He coughed again. "I'd better go," he said regretfully, but Steve just nodded. Those coughs made Soda sound like less of a seventeen year old and more of an elderly man, and they were nothing short of painful to hear.

Sodapop stood up to leave, and Steve fought the urge to shrug off the guard that grabbed his arm to take him back to his cell. What did he think he was going to do, run off? Where to? He swore these guards just enjoyed irritating him.

He could hear Soda coughing still as they were moved further away from each other, and he tried to distract himself. But it wasn't easy by any means to ignore a buddy in pain.

X X X X

Sodapop Curtis was late. This new job usually meant that didn't matter; he didn't have to deal with irate customers or anything and the man he had to report to – a college graduate named Jonathan Farnsworth – was a pretty tolerant guy, but Soda knew that even he would be questioning if he turned up two hours late, which was what it was looking like at this stage. He knew he shouldn't have gone to see Steve, but he hadn't seen him in a while, and after everything Steve had done for him, he figured it was the least he could do. Jonathan had said he would be spending the morning waiting for some kind of results, so Soda had figured he wouldn't need much help there.

Jonathan was of the same opinion as Soda that Falkens was a little… off. Instead of hiring some top scientists to do the impossible he'd taken a man who had only just graduated from medical school and a high school dropout. Soda was learning about the technical side of things from Jonathan, and Jonathan was learning the practical from Soda, but at this stage they both tended to spend more time talking than testing things. Sure, they talked about work, but then, Steve and Soda had often "talked about work" while at school.

It was a long drive from the prison, but Soda managed to make it in half an hour. He had no problems driving fast when he had to. Still, he wished he could see his friend without being late to work. Darry may have been understanding once, but he wouldn't be so nice if Soda got sacked twice within a single month.

X X X X

**A/N**: Short, I know, but it is an update. I know this one was a little background info ish, but it's necessary I'm afraid. I do know exactly what's going to happen when, so don't think I'm not updating because I'm bored or have no ideas; I know exactly where I'm going.

Even if it is short, I'd still love some reviews please! Any theories? Any at all? Correct ones get my ten page history report. Half correct ones get my three unit English analysis on Gothic literature. Come on, all assignments must GO!

(I'm kidding. Please review, I swear I won't make you do my homework!)


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N**: Because I'm an irresponsible procrastinator, here's another chapter!

Again, thank you SO much to reviewers, I really love you guys Also thanks to anyone who has me on their fav/alert list, and then finally anyone still reading, you guys are awesome!

Time will start to jump a little starting now. Sorry, it's necessary. Hey, anyone have a list of when characters' birthdays are? I've only been able to vaguely guess at Soda and Pony's; they're the only two the book gives any hint to, everyone else I'm lost.

X X X X

"Pony, what the _hell _are you still doing on the couch?"

Pony's eyes cracked open, trying not to let the piercing sunrays through the living room window or Darry's loud voice wake him entirely. He'd been having a nice dream. He'd been sitting down to a picnic with his parents, Johnny and Dally. They hadn't said anything interesting, and neither had Pony. It had been just five friends having lunch together.

"Ponyboy, I want an answer!"

Pony rolled over, shoving his face into the pillow and savouring the few seconds of supreme comfort he had before he had to move to take a breath. When he'd been younger he used to wish his nose was on the other side of his head so he could shove his face into his pillow all he liked. It was strangely comforting.

Feeling the need for air, Pony groaned as he sat up. "What d'you mean how come I'm still on the couch?" he asked sleepily.

"Pony, it's nine thirty!" Darry cried.

Pony sat up straight. "_Nine thirty_? Oh no… no…" He stood up, rummaging through his bags to try and find something suitable. By suitable, he meant clean.

Darry rolled his eyes. "Pony, it ain't that bad. I'll give you a lift."

Pony grimaced, wishing he didn't have to say what he was about to. "Darry… I had a test first period."

"You WHAT?"

The youngest Curtis didn't respond, just looked back down as he found some suitable clothing. "Ponyboy, why haven't you learned to use an alarm clock? I'd expect this kind of thing from Soda, not from you!"

"Two-Bit said he'd wake me!" Pony said, already walking towards the bathroom. "How was I supposed to know he thought it'd be funny to make me late? And how come you ain't at work anyway?" He yelled the last bit through the bathroom door as he shut it and began to change as swiftly as he could.

"I'm going in late," said Darry, sounding calmer. "Soda asked me to pick up Steve from the cooler; he would have gone himself but I told him it wasn't a good idea to do that in your first month on the job."

Pony had to laugh at that. Soda wasn't the most responsible worker around; he could see him getting fired for inviting Two-Bit to have a water gun fight at the hospital, using syringes for guns. Two-Bit had suggested doing just that to Johnny to try and cheer him up from all the pain he had been in right before his death. Pony sobered up once he thought of Johnny. He wouldn't be able to think of his best buddy for a long time yet without feeling a pang of grief and regret.

"I was on my way over there," continued Darry, still talking about Steve, "and I realized I was following his old man, so I turned around and came back here."

Pony brushed his teeth quickly and almost ran out of the bathroom. "I'm ready!" he announced.

"You haven't even had breakfast, or packed your bag," said Darry, though in truth he was becoming antsy. It was already too late for Ponyboy to ace this test, but his instincts were screaming at him to leave so his brilliant baby brother could at least do the first part. He quashed it down, convincing himself that Pony's nutrition was more important than his grades. Plus he didn't want to be the old Darry anymore. He wanted Pony to like him.

"Packed it last night," said Pony, "and I don't need breakfast. Let's go!"

Darry had to smile at Pony's enthusiasm.

X X X X

After going slightly above the speed limit to drop Pony off at school and satisfy his own parental desire for his kid brother to do well, Darry decided to go round to the house and spend the rest of his morning off assessing the damage. He probably should have done something before now, but with Soda in the hospital and the court case, it had been pushed to the bottom of his list of priorities.

The house looked pretty good as he neared it, but he knew it was only the back that had been burned. He parked in front of it and just looked at it a few moments before getting out and walking up the steps to the porch. The living room was just as he left it – he noticed with some amusement that Soda had even done the dishes that night without being asked more than once. He'd have to thank him for that. Maybe it would lead to more household chores being done.

The door leading to the back of the house had been broken through, presumably by the fire department, and through it Darry could see the real impact of the fire. The entire hallway was blackened, and he could still smell the lingering scent of charcoal in the air. That certainly took a while to dissipate…

Knowing the floor would be weakened by the flames, Darry stepped carefully through, trying not to let his large frame overwhelm the wood and crash through to the bottom. He gripped the handle of the first door he passed – the one to Soda and Pony's room.

The first thing he noticed upon entering was the hole in the roof. It was probably about as large as Darry was tall, burned clean off the top of the house and a portion of the wall. The mattress on the bed had completely disappeared, and the frame sat there, charred and almost forlorn, a little like they were about to move in and hadn't quite finished setting up the room yet.

Soda's side of the bed, the side closer to the hole in the roof, had been completely demolished, his bedside table destroyed along with any belongings he might have had. Pony's side was a little better off; his bedside table had lost a leg and had fallen to the ground, but it wasn't demolished. For no other reason than to satisfy his own curiosity, Darry walked over and pulled open the drawer.

He raised his eyebrows as he saw the pile of white paper that had been completely unharmed by the fire. Wondering how that might have come to pass, Darry reached in and pulled the large stack out – there had to have been a hundred sheets easily. It was covered in Pony's writing, and even on the first glance Darry could tell it was something his youngest brother had gotten into as he went on – the writing had started out reasonably neat, but by the end of the page was nothing more than a disjointed scrawl.

Wondering what it was, Darry sat down under the hole in the roof and began to read.

_When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…_

**X X X X**

**A/N**: Wow, wasn't expecting to get this up this quickly! I'll admit only half my problem at the moment is schoolwork. My other problem is stress from schoolwork, and that makes my writing… frankly… horrible. Oh – for the record, fires DO take a very long time to stop smelling of fire.

Reviews? I liked typing that up, I love exploring the Darry-Pony relationship. Next chapter should feature a little on Soda's new job, and a little on how Darry took the theme, and maybe a little Steve; I haven't really decided yet. Any correct theories receive… a Tickle Me Two-Bit! Why should Elmo get all the attention?


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N**: I'm back! I was suffering writer's block after failing English because I did not read the book, and because my English teacher did not understand the book. "How can you have understood it if you didn't read it?" I hear you ask. Oh, believe me, I understood it… Shall not go into it here, feel free to PM me if you care. Which you don't, and I don't blame you.

Oh, yes – thanks for reviews again! Especially to those who left me very helpful birthday lists; I really appreciate it!

X X X X

"Honey, I'm home!" shouted Two-Bit as he crashed into the house, causing Ponyboy to put a line of ink right through the paragraph he had been writing and Sodapop to make several crashing noises in the kitchen, followed by some choice swear words.

"_Two-Bit_!" Pony whined. "You've no idea how long I was working on that!"

Two-Bit sauntered into the living room, where in the absence of a desk Pony had spread his work all across the pull out couch that served as his and Soda's bed. Darry tried to make them put it back and make it into a couch every morning, but they had stopped doing it within a week of moving in, and Darry always left too early and came home too late to notice. "Whatcha doing?" Two-Bit asked, mimicking an inquisitive young child. "Who the hell is Robbie Floss?"

"_Robert Frost_," corrected Ponyboy icily, "is the poet I'm doing my focus study on."

"Well, excuse me," Two-Bit said, now acting affronted and holding his hands up in front of himself. "What's cooking?"

"It's a surprise!" Soda shouted from the kitchen.

"Roughly translated," Pony explained, "you don't want to know. He won't let anybody in there."

"Right," said Two-Bit vaguely, sitting on the bed and bouncing a little. The bounces gradually grew more powerful and more annoying, sending Pony's pens a short way into the air and shuffling up his notes.

"Would you stop that?" Pony growled.

"Steve-o out of the slammer?" Two-Bit questioned, not ceasing his bouncing.

"Yes!" Soda yelled. "He's coming here to eat!"

"Have you asked him?" Pony called.

There was a brief pause. "Pony, call Steve and ask him to come, will you?"

"Yeah, because he'd just love to come to dinner with me, wouldn't he?" Pony said, more quietly this time so Soda wouldn't hear him saying something nasty about his best friend. "Two-Bit, will you call him?"

"I might," said Two-Bit, who seemed to have his heart set on being as annoying as possible. Pony growled, turning back to his homework and trying to salvage his ruined paper.

The door opened again and Darry entered. His face held a strange expression as he set eyes on Ponyboy. In fact, if he looked deep enough Pony could almost see – _almost _– the kicked puppy expression Johnny always wore. It was only there for a fleeting moment, though, and then it was gone. Darry walked in and threw his car keys and his bag next to the rest of his stuff like any other day. Before Pony could warn him, Darry had walked into the kitchen. "What the hell happened here?" he growled. Two-Bit winked at Pony, smiling mischievously.

"You weren't supposed to come in here," Soda mumbled guiltily. "It was supposed to be a surprise."

"Thanks, Soda, what a great surprise, I'll be up cleaning all night after my kid brother's mess, wonderful…" He trailed of into grouchy mutterings, walking back out to the living room. Something had gotten Darry really mad.

The door swung open again and Steve walked in, facing the floor. As soon as he lifted his head Darry, Pony and Two-Bit saw why: the left side of his face was bruised badly, the eye almost swollen shut. Ponyboy swallowed awkwardly. He could act fine around Johnny after his dad had hit him; they had been friends, but he and Steve were rivals, and he never knew how to behave when something bad happened to him.

"What happened to you, Steve?" Darry asked in a low voice. Two-Bit whistled, and Soda stuck his head into the living room to see what was going on. His mouth opened slightly when he saw Steve's face; he'd seen him beaten before, but it had been a while.

"It's fine guys," said Steve. "My old man wasn't too happy about having to drive all that way to pick me up."

"But I asked Darry to," said Soda.

Darry sat down on the ancient armchair next to the couch. "I did, but I saw your dad in front of me, and he's usually not to receptive to someone telling him they'll deal with his son."

Steve shrugged. "Yeah, that's my dad, the control freak…" he muttered. "Least I'm out of the joint now. Any food?"

Sodapop smiled mischievously. He pushed open the door with a grand flourish, mocking all the classy restaurants on the other side of town. "Dinner is served!" he cried.

Two-Bit bounded in first, but Steve and Darry exchanged a knowing glance before following his lead. Ponyboy was still a little put off by the fact that Two-Bit had ruined an entire page of work for him, and just wanted a break, no matter what he would have to eat to get one.

The kitchen was covered in flour – apparently that had been the cause of Darry's grumpiness – and the table was set with six bowls and cutlery. The serving dishes on the table were a sight: one was filled with what looked like very watery tar, and another bore a strong resemblance to watered down blood. There was spaghetti that was the same shade as Steve's bruised face, and the only redeeming thing about the meal: a saucepan filled with something that could actually be bolognese sauce. A fresh chocolate cake was cooling on the benchtop.

Nobody spoke for a while. "Well, sit down!" Soda said happily. "Two-Bit, could you get Rachel?" The youngest Mathews tended to spend a lot of time in her room.

"Sure," said Two-Bit. "RACHEL?!"

"Okay, well, I meant go and fetch her, but whatever…" Soda said, making sure everyone sat down and ignoring their faces, most of which were set with an expression of pure horror.

Rachel came tearing down the stairs and into the kitchen, but as soon as she spied the meal she decided the others could just suffer without her. "I'm making a PB&J sandwich," announced the young girl, marching with conviction towards the fridge.

If it bothered Soda, he didn't show it. "Okay, we need to make sure we leave some for Mrs Mathews –"

"Oh, I'll make Mom a sandwich too," said Rachel in an irritating tone that made Steve's expression darken. He hated annoying children.

"Fine," said Soda. "Okay, you start off here." He pointed to the tar-looking dish. "I called that one Soda Soup."

If Ponyboy had a mirror, he was sure he would see himself turning green. "Please tell me that's nothing more than a joke about your name and it actually tastes alright," he said in the most polite tone he could muster.

"Vegetables, chocolate and bread, stewed in Pepsi," Soda explained. "Darry says we need to eat our vegetables, Pony likes Pepsi, and I heard bread goes well with soup. And chocolate because it tastes nice."

"They change the definition of 'nice' while I was in the cooler?" Steve mumbled, reaching for the spoon. Two-Bit looked like he was trying his hardest not to burst into laughter.

"Then after that you eat the spaghetti and the bolognese sauce. You were going to eat that red stuff next" – Soda gestured at the bowl that looked like blood – "but it didn't turn out very well. I copied all these from a TV show, except for the soup."

By this time, everyone but Soda was gingerly trying the horrible looking soup. Darry put his spoon down after a mouthful, grimacing and trying hard to swallow what he had in his mouth; Steve was taking in one drop at a time and avoiding the sodden lumps that must once have been bread at the bottom; Ponyboy had yet to gather the guts to try any; and Two-Bit was slurping it quickly and noisily, mumbling noises of satisfaction as he did so. Rachel watched the whole display with wide eyes, eating her sandwich quietly.

Soda served his own soup and took a large mouthful. His eyes opened wide as the taste hit his tongue, and he swallowed quickly, grabbing one of the glasses of water he'd set out on the table and drinking quickly. "Broccoli tastes even worse boiled in Pepsi!" he cried.

Two-Bit picked up his bowl and drank the remnants, slurping noisily. "I like it," he said nonchalantly.

Soda got out more bowls as Two-Bit pulled everybody's bowls of Soda Soup closer to himself and began systematically polishing off every one of them.

Pony looked at the dish set in front of him now. He hadn't been game enough to try the Soda Soup, but this one looked almost… normal. Aside from the purple pasta, of course, but at least it was only purple and he didn't have to each that blood dish. He picked up his fork and tried some.

He almost gagged. He had not expected the explosion of cinnamon that came as soon as the food touched his tongue. He liked cinnamon, it tasted great on pancakes. But it had no place in this meal, or in this quantity.

"I copied all these off a cooking show I saw when I was sick a few weeks ago," Soda was saying. He brought the fork to his mouth and tasted it. "Mmph," he said, and swallowed. "Wow. Bit heavy on the cinnamon."

Steve began chuckling. "I don't think any cooking show on the planet would put this much cinnamon in an Italian dinner. I didn't think it had _any _in it."

Soda grinned. "They put in some kind of spice, how am I supposed to know which? It was a while ago."

Two-Bit, who was probably feeling fairly hyperactive from all the sugar and caffeine he had consumed from the soup, joined in the laughter. Soon everybody had joined in, laughing at the sheer atrociousness of the meal Soda had prepared.

"Hey, buddy," said Steve, nudging Soda. "Thanks for the welcome home."

"No problem," said Soda, grinning. "We still got chocolate cake to go!"

X X X X

**A/N**: Kinda lighthearted little thing. I was in a fluffy mood. And Stevie deserves a great welcome home present.

Review? Please? I have no summer vacation like the rest of you; reviews are all I have to look forward to. Yes, I'm going for the pity vote. So sue me.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N**: Ah, just watched that Madonna episode of Glee (we're behind America) and they made some _really _interesting points about the status of women that made me go up to the principal and report a whole heap of sexually abusive year 9's and 10's. Feeling good, ladies, I've saved a _lot _of year 7's. I figured, why should we put up with that? We shouldn't.

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed! Argh, am I the only one who really wishes those Tickle Me Two-Bits I offered a couple of chapters ago were real?

X X X X

Steve returned to work the day after being released from prison. His boss had not wanted to give any sort of reward to an ex-con, or look as though it was alright to miss a month's work, but Steve was the best mechanic around, and no matter how long his criminal record was, it wouldn't change the fact. It was one of the many times in his life he was thankful for his talent; he loved his job and besides, he needed the money. He wouldn't be tied down to his father.

Soda had come in with his this morning, supposedly because it was on the way to the hospital and he might as well drop Steve off on the way, but he had not left the DX yet. Steve thought he was trying to avoid going to work.

"What would you buy if you had a million dollars?" he asked. Steve rolled his eyes. That was exactly the sort of question he used to ask Darry in the mornings before school. It was as though he thought by asking stupid questions he could make Darry forget he had school in the first place.

"I dunno," he replied, searching in the toolbox for a good sized wrench. Someone had put their engine through some serious punishment, and now he had to deal with it, as always. Not that he minded, of course. "I could buy Paris. I'd make a fortune off the rent."

"Think you'd need a bit more than a million to afford Paris," mused Soda. He went up to Steve and began staring over his shoulder. "What're you doing?"

Steve gritted his teeth as he tried to force a particularly stubborn bolt to come loose. "I'm trying to see what exactly is wrong with this engine," he explained. "This one guy's brought it back pretty much every week with the same problems… no matter what I do I can't get it to stay fixed more than a few days. What're _you _doing? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Actually I am at work," Soda told him. He pulled a tiny glass bottle from his pocket, about the size of the free samples of coffee and the like that the supermarket sometimes gave out. "I'm testing some new… stuff."

"Forget the name?" Steve asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"They all speak Latin in that place, it ain't my fault," Soda said, rolling his eyes and going to an unoccupied table to put the tiny bottle on. He unscrewed it a little, but left the lid resting on top. "We're getting before and after samples of this _stuff_ being exposed to dirty air, so I figure, what's more dirty than a gas station?"

He rubbed his chest as he said it, and Steve grimaced. He didn't want to lecture Soda on his wellbeing, but he didn't want to let slide the fact that there was a reason Darry was the one who always got the car filled up when they needed gas either. "Why don't you leave that here a while and go to work?" he suggested half-heartedly. Something told him Soda would do nothing of the sort. "You can get more done that way."

"Or I could _not _go to work and stay here," Soda said. He almost bounded back over to Steve, staring into the open bonnet of the old car with admiration. "Can I do anything?" he asked.

Now Steve frowned in confusion. He knew they had planned to work on cars together when they were younger and more naive, but he had long since accepted the fact that it couldn't happen. He'd assumed Soda had too; after all, it had been him who had told Steve he didn't think he could manage being around all the fumes. Now he was acting like he was perfectly… normal. It was probably one of the most awkward situations Steve had ever found himself in with Soda. He had to choose and choose quickly – worry about Soda's health or worry about his feelings.

He sighed. There wasn't much of a choice really. If he started trying to babysit his best friend, he'd soon find him gone. "You can try getting this stupid bolt to come out," he suggested, handing Soda the wrench.

Soda grinned and nodded enthusiastically.

X X X X

"Darry, how come you been so distant from me?" Pony asked. Darry had agreed to drop him off at school, but that was about the extent of their contact for the last couple of days. He couldn't remember doing anything nasty, and apart from the one little slip-up with Sodapop the other night, Darry hadn't been treating anybody else like this. Ponyboy had resolved to get to the bottom of it.

Darry wasn't looking at him. They were parked outside the school, and Darry was sitting staring straight out the windscreen into nothing. He really did seem hurt about something. "I went by the house the other day, Pone," he began quietly. "I went into your old room. Soda's side had pretty much been completely destroyed, but yours wasn't so bad. I found something there."

Ponyboy waited for him to continue, but when nothing was forthcoming, he decided to interject. "What?"

"I found something you wrote in your bedside table," said Darry, and Pony's stomach dropped. He knew exactly what that was. "I don't know how it escaped the fire… just lucky you slept on that side of the bed, I guess. Do you really feel that way about me, Pony?"

Now he turned to him, and Pony could see that the kicked puppy expression Johnny always wore was back again. He couldn't really blame him, either. "Where are you up to?" he asked carefully.

"I didn't read far," admitted Darry. "It was painful… seeing how much more you loved Soda than me. I guess I don't blame you; he's always been there for you and I haven't…"

"Darry," Pony interrupted, "read the rest of it. I swear it gets better. I was a stupid kid then, Dare, I didn't know much of anything really. I changed, I swear. How could I not?"

Darry looked over at him. He wasn't crying – Darry never cried. His expression was about equivalent to anyone else bawling their eyes out, though. "I love you, Pone," he said. "You know that, right?"

"Course I do," said Pony, now realizing he should have come right out and asked his family to read the theme. He would have looked less like he was hiding it then. "I love you too." He pulled his school bag up onto his lap.

"You have a good day," said Darry, and Ponyboy nodded. He leaned over to hug his older brother, thinking how wonderful it was to finally feel comfortable enough to do that with Darry as well as with Soda. The day was definitely off to a good start, and he only hoped it would continue for as long as it possibly could.

X X X X

**A/N**: There ya go. Have exams for the next fortnight or so… not sure what this means for updates as I'll either be too lazy to study and so have lots of free time or have no time as I will be studying lots. I honestly don't trust myself well enough to make a promise… yeah I'm a really bad student, but I really do hate school that much.

Reviews? Any correct theories this week receive… my sister's alarm clock! I'm so sick of it going off in the middle of the night – she does that so she can have extra time on the computer. She has a problem. Anyway, I need sleep, so get those theories in! Some serious stuff should start happening… I am excited for my own story; does that make me a loser?


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N**: Two chapters in one day! Thanks so much to people who reviewed; I love 'em! They keep me motivated!

X X X X

"This does not look good…" Jonathan mumbled as he looked over some paper.

"What?" Sodapop asked, pausing in what he was doing. He was copying out findings Jonathan had made into neater, more organized sets, and filing them appropriately. It was the most boring thing he had done since dropping out of school, but he kept his mind focused on the pain that had become more and more bothersome in his chest ever since he arrived at the DX. He'd been feeling good recently, and he'd so enjoyed helping Steve with that engine. He was paying for it now, though; his breaths had become shallow as he tried to avoid the worst of the pain.

"That stuff I gave you to test seems to have failed at doing pretty much everything it was supposed to do," the older man explained. "There are still traces of pollution, none of the active ingredients are reacting to it in any way…"

Soda returned to copying. He hadn't understood much of what Jonathan had said, but he had understood that he wouldn't be going to work for the DX anytime soon. He was beginning to feel hopelessness at the task he had set himself. It had sounded so good at first, save a whole heap of people's lives, save him from a job as a sales assistant for life; but nothing was working. Deep down, Soda knew they were just two young guys fiddling with things only one of them even understood.

He pushed those thoughts away. He had to keep up hope, and remind himself that this job wasn't just about him and his problems. It was about Darry and Pony too, finding an income to help them out as well. He needed to treat this job more like his old one: it was a source of money, but nothing to get too emotional over. If he didn't start thinking like that, he wouldn't be able to keep functioning.

X X X X

Darry signed one last piece of paper, sighing and leaning back in his chair. He was done; he had paid the bills that needed to be paid, including, finally, Soda's last hospital bill; he had written to the social services about Soda's change in occupation; and most importantly, he had put in a claim to get some building materials from the insurance company. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he knew he couldn't live with the Mathews forever. Sodapop was earning a lot more now than he ever had done in the past, and it was really helping them out. He needed to take advantage of that while he still could.

The door banged open and Soda and Pony walked in – Soda had collected Ponyboy from track practice. Pony hadn't felt too wonderful the past couple of days, and now Darry sincerely regretted letting him go to training – he let out a huge sneeze the second he walked through the door.

Soda grimaced in sympathy. He was carrying Pony's bag over his shoulder and went to put it down in the increasingly untidy pile of their stuff in the living room. "Coach made him sit out," he explained. "Poor thing has a bad cold."

"Don't you _poor thing_ me," said Pony petulantly. He bent almost double as another sneeze wracked his body, and Darry passed the tissues wordlessly. "I'm sorry, Soda," he apologized after cleaning his face. "I hate being sick."

"How did you get sick in this weather, anyway?" Darry asked, standing up and stretching.

"He's been doing naked rain dances in front of the school every morning," Soda said with a perfectly straight face. Darry threw a pillow at him.

"I dunno how I got sick," Pony grumbled. "D'you think I sleep with ice cubes or something, Dare? I didn't _choose _this."

"Didn't say you did," said Darry, trying not to get himself even more out of favour with his youngest brother than he already was. He was steadily working his way through Pony's theme, and was already realizing just how great a writer that kid was. He could see why Ponyboy wanted him to finish it. He'd have to make Soda read it too, somehow. "You take my bed on the floor tonight, I'll sleep with Soda. We have money to earn; we don't want to get sick."

"The floor's so _uncomfortable_!" Ponyboy whined. He'd never been the most pleasant person to be sick with. He'd stop helping with the cooking and cleaning, and then wouldn't say he was sick until you discovered it yourself. He was a suffer-in-silence type until his illness was discovered, and then the complaints started. It was one of the things Darry liked about Soda. People who were always sick didn't complain like healthy people, not unless they really needed to.

"Oh Pony, I can sleep on the floor," offered Soda kindly. Darry had to grin at his overly sympathetic attitude. Ponyboy could probably ask him to do anything at all and he'd do it just to make him feel better.

"You need something to lean against; you ain't sleeping on the floor," said Darry. "Pone, you'll be fine. I've slept there many other nights, it's not the end of the world. Right, now I'd like some dinner, and no Soda Soup, if you don't mind."

Soda grinned.

X X X X

Soda privately wondered if last night, he hadn't experienced what Pony had experienced pretty much every night since they moved in together. The poor kid had been coughing and sneezing all night, waking up both Darry and Soda and using up most of the tissues Mrs Mathews had in the house. He'd have to buy some later.

He had a small tickling at the back of his throat that was worrying him. He hoped he wasn't getting sick; colds never ended well for him, and he wasn't sure what the hospital's policy on coming to work if he was a little sick was. He didn't want to endanger anyone's wellbeing by making them sicker than they were already. He'd have to ask someone about that today.

Darry had given up going back to sleep before dawn and had gotten up, going into the kitchen and closing the door, doing God knows what. Soda wasn't having an easy time of getting back to sleep either, and had more been staring out the window than actually closing his eyes and trying to get some rest. He was getting bored.

Trying to suppress a yawn and failing, Soda ignored the sudden flare up of pain from his chest as he stood up and tiptoed over to the door separating the living room and the kitchen. He closed the door softly behind him, not wanting to wake Pony, and sat down beside Darry at the table.

"You're up early," remarked the oldest Curtis. He hadn't read in months, as far as Soda could remember, not since their parents had died, but he was reading now. There wasn't much else to do at this time of the morning.

"So're you," said Soda. Dawn was beginning to make itself known; the sky was a dimly lit grey and the birds seemed louder than usual. "Poor Pony. The coach banned him from coming to practice until he's better. He didn't take it real well."

"Running's not the best thing for a cold, if he hadn't done it, I would have," said Darry. "Listen, I'm going to be home late the next few weeks, and I'm going to have to work weekends too."

"How come?"

"I got a few friends who are willing to put in some effort to rebuild our house. I'm going to be there more than them, though. I don't want to ask them to do any more than I need to; I'll do pretty much everything that doesn't involve plumbing or electrical myself."

Sodapop looked at him like he was mad. "You know that'll take weeks."

Darry sighed. He had a rough period coming up. "Yeah. I know. You and Pony can get dinner ready, and ask Two-Bit to pitch in too."

"Fine," said Soda. "You know he won't."

"Make him," said Darry. "I swear he never does anything for his own mom. Teaching him to cook will be the best thank you present we could ever get her."

X X X X

**A/N**: Two chapters in a day! Probably won't continue, I'm warning you; I have been blowing off my French work to do this. I hope it will, though!

Please take the time to hit the little blue button! That one that says Review! Any theories? Chicken soup for Pony? Put 'em there!


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N**: Dedicating this to Jessica Watson, who sailed solo around the world at sixteen and arrived home in Sydney this afternoon. She had the balls to sail across the world, disagree with the Prime Minister, and tell the world that they need to stop telling teenagers they're not going to succeed – and she's only one week older than me. Congratulations, honey, and happy birthday for Tuesday!

Thanks also to wonderful reviewers, as always! Your support is essential to my muse, who has been feeling rather starved recently. Poor muse, I have been neglecting it.

X X X X

Steve scrunched up his nose as Pony sneezed loudly, wiping his face with the sleeve of his jacket and sniffing audibly. "Hey, kid, you ever heard of a handkerchief?" he asked snidely.

"They're all dirty," Pony said miserably in a horribly croaky voice. He wasn't looking forward to going to school that day; Socs would probably think he was riddled with germs (which he was) from living in squalor (which he wasn't). School had become a lot tougher for him since Johnny and Dally and Bob died, and he had a tendency to be a victim of bullying, but he'd still go and try the best he could. If he tried hard now, he'd get a good job and he wouldn't have to try so hard later. He sure didn't want to end up working the hours Darry worked.

Steve got off the fold out couch and began going through the pile of Pony's books set out on top of the TV. "Is it just me," he began, "or do you take English every semester?"

Pony glared and snapped his books out from under Steve's eyes, throwing them into his bag. "I happen to enjoy it," he said in that horrible voice. He knew he was being a little snappy; Steve hadn't said anything particularly nasty, but he was sick and feeling rotten, and he didn't like Steve. He shouldn't have had to put up with him. He'd have to deal with him for the entire journey to school, too; Soda was dropping him and Two-Bit off, then driving Steve to the DX and himself to the hospital. Steve had practically given Soda his car to use for the time being; it didn't make sense for him to keep the car and either have someone go well out of their way to drop Soda off or for him to leave a lot earlier in order to take the bus.

"Just saying…" said Steve defensively, throwing his hands in the air briefly.

Soda began coughing from behind the bathroom door at the top of the stairs. Neither Steve nor Pony were worried at first, but when the coughs continued they began to get a little jittery. Steve finally grabbed the inhaler from where it had fallen to the floor during the night and jogged up the stairs, Pony tailing him and starting to cough himself. He'd started spitting up fluid the day before and his coughs had acquired the nasty chesty sound that accompanied a very bad cold, and it had started to hurt as well. On the bright side, at least Soda was suffering along with him, although he didn't have to get up five hundred times in the night to spit up phlegm. Ponyboy was feeling awfully sorry for himself.

He came up the stairs a lot slower than Steve, and by the time he arrived Soda's medicine was kicking in and his coughs had almost stopped. Pony leaned on the doorway to the bathroom, trying to get his breath back. He was beginning to feel slightly light headed, but every time he took a deep breath the coughs just started again.

Soda was sitting on the bathroom floor, leaning against the cabinet and looking at Ponyboy with sympathy. "We're a pair, ain't we, Pone?" he asked in a tired voice. He stood up. "You're staying home today – you're too sick."

Pony finally managed to get his breath back and stood panting as though he'd just run a marathon. "But Darry –"

"Darry isn't here," interrupted Soda. "What I say goes. If you go today they're just gonna call Darry up and make him take you home. You can study just as good from your bed." He turned to Steve. "We better go. Where's Two-Bit?"

"I'm here!" announced Two-Bit from the doorway. He was still dressed in his pajamas and his hair was all mussed up from sleeping.

Steve glared at him. "You know, we have jobs to get to," he snapped. "We can't cut _jobs_. We ain't waiting for you to get ready. C'mon, Soda, let's go."

"Who said anything about getting ready?" Two-Bit asked. He motioned Soda away from the sink and grabbed a tube of toothpaste. He squeezed it straight into his mouth and bent down to drink from the faucet. Swilling it a couple of times, he spat out the disgusting concoction and wiped his face with the back of his hand. "'M ready," he said proudly.

"Ain't you ever heard of a dress code?" Soda asked, eyeing his attire.

"Nope," said Two-Bit. "Let's go."

X X X X

Sodapop was struggling to wash the dishes. He'd definitely caught Pony's cold, though thankfully not as bad as his poor little brother. He'd been home from school the past four days, but seemed to have finally turned a corner. Soda was glad; he'd been worried he'd have to take Pony to the hospital at one point, and he didn't want to have Darry take time off work to come in and sign things, and he didn't think social services would be too happy either.

Soda himself was only suffering a headache and a runny nose, but no matter how mild a cold was it always managed to make his asthma worse. He'd been taking too many puffs from the inhaler and he'd have to buy another soon. On top of that, his hands were starting to shake. It didn't happen often, and it wasn't serious, but it was a sign he needed to stop using his inhaler. Only thing was, he couldn't. So the shaking grew worse.

He dropped the bread knife he was cleaning to the bottom of the sink again and fished it back up, wiping it clean and putting it next to the sink to dry. "I'm going to head over to the house now, little buddy," said Darry, who had been quietly reading the paper after having his breakfast. "You going to be okay with Pony? You sure he's getting better?"

"Yeah, he's better," said Soda quietly. He wasn't feeling great. He knew he had lungs like a ninety year old chain smoker, but he only ever felt old when his hands started to shake. It was like a slap in the face on top of everything he had already suffered, especially since they were only shaking because he was doing everything he could to look after himself properly. It wouldn't happen if he hadn't been coughing in the first place.

"You're awfully subdued this morning," Darry noticed. "What happened?" Soda didn't answer, just went to put another mug on the clean side of the bench. Darry immediately noticed what was wrong. "You're shaking again, aren't you?" The eldest brother knew how Soda felt about the shaking. Overall, Darry counted his blessings; if Soda were to get all upset at the coughing or pain, he would lead a very sad life. He got the shakes so rarely that it barely mattered, and it wasn't like it was dangerous like his other symptoms. "Don't worry about it; it'll get better. You want me to finish the dishes?"

Soda spun around suddenly, and seeing the hurt expression that also looked vaguely panicked, Darry wondered if he'd inadvertently said something wrong. Soda's sudden deep breath and his hand flying to his chest made him think differently, though. "You having another attack?" Darry asked gently.

Soda shook his head, pressing his hand hard against his chest and holding it there. "No," he said quietly. "I think – I think it's my heart."

X X X X

**A/N**: Dun dun dun. Um… reviews?

Shaking is a side effect of majorly OD'ing on the inhaler (at least for me it's OD'ing) and I mean majorly… it's only happened to me once and I don't get all emotional like Soda.


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N**: Yay, an update! Thanks so much for people who reviewed, I'm sorry if anyone dropped off the cliff in their waiting.

X X X X

Darry had almost had a heart attack himself when Soda told him what was wrong. He'd questioned him frantically, asking him if his left arm hurt at all or felt in any way strange beyond the shaking. Sodapop said no, but his face had been white and scared, and then it had flushed suddenly as he muttered a tiny "Oh" and his grip on his chest tightened. Darry had made him go sit in the car as he went to tell Pony he was taking Soda to the hospital.

Darry remembered how much Pony had screamed, but he still would not take him. There was always the chance that someone who was already very sick would catch his cold, and that could be disastrous. He promised he'd call if it was anything serious, and Pony could get Two-Bit to drive him, though at this point he wasn't sure it could be anything but serious. What kind of seventeen year old just suddenly started having heart problems?  
Now they were at the hospital. They'd been skipped ahead of the queue because of Soda's symptoms, which half made Darry relieved and half made him worried: the only times he'd ever been skipped ahead of any emergency room queue with anybody was when Soda was having trouble breathing. Was this just as serious?

Soda was told to sit on the bed as the nurse went off to find a doctor. Darry looked at him. He was trying to take deep breaths, but he was always stopped by the pain in his lungs. Darry tried not to let his fear show: it was clear Soda was already scared, and he didn't need to make things worse.

A doctor came through the curtains that sectioned off Soda's bed from the rest of the ward and greeted them. "Good morning. I'm Dr Wilcox. Now, you think you're having problems with your heart?"

Soda nodded. "I was just washing the dishes and it just started going way too fast," he explained. "Then it kinda slowed down again, then it kept changing between too fast and a little slow." He tried taking another deep breath and pressed his hand hard against his chest again.

Dr Wilcox motioned for Soda to lift his shirt so he could listen to his heart. "Any family history of heart problems?"

Soda winced as the cold stethoscope touched his chest and looked questioningly at Darry. "No," said Darry, "none that I know of."

"Have you had any caffeinated drinks today?"

"No," answered Soda.

The doctor took the stethoscope off and wrote something down on a clipboard he had brought with him. "Your breathing sounds quite laboured," he said.

"He's asthmatic," interjected Darry, "and he has a bit of a cold."

"Right," said Dr Wilcox. "So have you been using your inhaler much recently?"

Sodapop blinked, wondering what this had to do with his heart. "Yeah," he answered. "I got the shakes."

"Ah…" The doctor took one of Soda's hands and observed the shaking for a moment. "A racing heart is a fairly uncommon side effect of the medicine used in inhalers, so I can be fairly certain that's all it is." He let go of Soda's hand.

"It's not dangerous, is it?" Darry asked, feeling a tiny glimmer of hope.

"No, not really," said Dr Wilcox. "However nobody's heart can keep up at that speed for an extended period of time; that's when it becomes dangerous. I'd like you to stay here a few hours; if you start to have an asthma attack we can give you oxygen and see if you can manage without the medication, just to give your heart a bit of a rest."

Darry almost sagged with relief. He'd been so frightened that Soda would have to deal with a bad heart on top of everything else, but it seemed they had escaped that. He barely noticed when the doctor left as he sat down next to Soda on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "Well," mumbled Sodapop, "that's a relief."

Darry laughed and ruffled his hair. "I was about to freak out there," he admitted.

"Really? You didn't show it."

"Well, I was," he said quietly. He sighed, thinking about everything that had gone wrong for them, and how he'd thought for a single, terrifying second that Soda was having a heart attack and he'd have to say goodbye. There was no point dwelling on that now, though. Soda was going to be okay, Pony was recovering from his bad cold and the house was finally being sorted out. "I have to go call Ponyboy and the guys doing the house," he explained to Soda. "I'll be back soon, alright? And since you don't need to watch your heart, we'll order pizza once you're discharged. I need something to relax."

X X X X

**A/N**: Short, I know, but I couldn't think of a realistic way to continue on after this scene without making it either forced or about two thousand words longer, and I normally just don't have the patience to write more than a standard chappie size in one go. Can't read much more than this either, unless it's _really _good.

So Soda's okay I'm not that cruel. It's all a part of Cal's Master Plan, coming soon to a website near you. I'm in one of those moods where I just want to yell the plot to the world, so I shall stop talking now.

Please review! Next chapter: Soda and Pony go drag racing!


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N**: Thanks so much for the reviews! They were so lovely, as always.

X X X X

Soda was almost skipping around the house the following morning, feeling elated beyond anything he had recently experienced. He'd actually thought he was going to die the day before, maybe not in that single instance, but he was sure he couldn't cope with anymore problems than he already had. He hadn't felt optimistic about even reaching his eighteenth birthday. That was all in the past now. Now he felt as though he'd been given a second chance, and he'd take it.

He wasn't perfect, of course. His heart hadn't really improved any since the day before, as he'd been told would happen. His body needed to get rid of all the drugs it had consumed, and it would take a while. He'd been warned against using his inhaler unless it was strictly necessary, and if either his asthma or his heart got worse, return to the hospital. He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, with the golden light from the sun streaming in the kitchen window and giving everything a warm, friendly glow. Darry was off working on the house and Steve had volunteered to help out, and the remainder of the gang was back in Two-Bit's house. Pony was doing his homework out on the sunlit porch, Two-Bit; after sleeping off his usual Sunday morning hangover, was polishing off a chocolate cake in front of Mickey Mouse; and Soda was reading a car magazine Steve had swiped from the DX.

The phone rang, breaking the peace, and Two-Bit jumped off the couch as though he had been electrocuted. "_I'm getting it, I'm getting it_!" he screamed, running into the kitchen.

"It's your house, Two-Bit, we ain't gonna answer it," Soda drawled.

Two-Bit ignored him. "Yell-o, Clark Kent here," he said into the receiver. Sodapop rolled his eyes and returned to his magazine. "Nope, sorry, don't know Sodapop, or a Tim Shepard, you want to talk to Lois?" Soda stood up and waited to be handed the phone. "Who is this Two-Bit you speak of? I am a simple reporter, committed to the truth and justice for all –" He stopped talking as the person on the other end started yelling at him. "Here, Lois, someone wants to talk to ya," he said finally, giving the phone to Soda.

Soda grinned, but he had to stop as he felt a particularly nasty twinge in his chest. He'd learned his heart didn't like him getting emotional about anything, and he'd had to fight to stay completely calm since the problem started. "Hi, is that Tim?" he asked.

"Yeah, listen, your boss just called me," Tim said abruptly. He didn't sound too amused by Two-Bit's joke.

"Why would my boss call you?" Soda asked, immediately confused. Unless Tim frequented the hospital, which Soda knew he didn't, Falkens had no reason to call Tim. The Shepards certainly wouldn't be related to anyone who would become a doctor.

"For racing, stupid. He said he didn't have your number."

Ah. Mr Brumley. Tim probably didn't know Soda had changed jobs. "He should," said Soda. "I changed addresses while I was still working for him."

"You changed jobs?" Tim asked, but didn't give Soda time to answer. "Whatever, I don't care. He said tonight, same place as last. The fuzz have been cracking down on public drunkenness or something in the city, so the road should be clear. I gotta go now; Mathews gave me a migraine."

Sodapop grinned. "Okay. Thanks Tim." Tim had already hung up, so no goodbyes were said. He continued smiling, knowing he'd get to do something fun with just Ponyboy for a change. He suddenly found he missed his baby brother.

X X X X

"How come you won't let me drive?" Ponyboy grumbled as they were heading towards the highway they had raced on earlier.

"Because if you hit anything and we don't get there in time, I'm going to lose my gloating rights," explained Soda.

"You didn't even come first last year," Pony said. "You don't have gloating rights."

"And now I have a chance to get them," said Soda. "Don't screw that up."

Ponyboy grinned, knowing Soda wasn't really mad at him. He settled back to watch the drive. He had to admit that it was a lot more peaceful when he wasn't the one having to worry about hitting poles or children. He looked up and sighed – it was a clear night, but he couldn't see the stars. The city lights blotted them out. That was yet another reason to move to the country… He'd have to put that on the growing list of things to do when he left Tulsa. _Write a story under the stars…_

They climbed the hill before their destination, and like last time, once they crested it the world was lit with lights from cars, flashlights, and even a campfire or two. Most people were already in various stages of intoxication, and those that weren't were swiftly heading that way.

Pony jumped at the sound of someone knocking at his window, and he saw the always crazed looking Mr Brumley. Soda stopped the car and motioned to Ponyboy to wind down the window so he could talk with the old man.

"I got a bone to pick with you, Curtis," Mr Brumley said gruffly. "You upped and quit on me with no notice _whatsoever_, and now I'm left with the dregs of Tulsa's unemployable to man my pride and joy!"

Pony turned to his brother, confused, and Soda smiled back at him to appease him. "I'm sorry, Mr Brumley," he said.

The old man stalked away, mumbling derogatory things about young people and their lack of commitment. "He's getting old, Pone," said Soda by way of explanation.

They parked the truck and got out. Pony hung to the side a little; it was clear how much more popular Sodapop was than him and he felt awkward being constantly in his brother's shadow. He wished he could have the self confidence to mingle easily with complete strangers, but it seemed the family gene pool had skipped him in that regard. Instead he chose to forget his own embarrassment and disappear back into his imagination. At least there was one skill he still had.

"Hey, Ponyboy," Soda interrupted his musings. "Check it out." He held up a single key.

Pony raised his eyebrows skeptically. "It's a key," he stated.

Sodapop gasped in mock mortification. "A _key_? Oh, Ponyboy… This is so much more than a key. This is a key to a 427 Cobra, Pony. A _Cobra_."

"You know what I got out of that?" Pony asked. "I got that you got the key to a cage with four hundred and twenty seven snakes in it. That doesn't sound like much fun."

Sodapop looked at him, horrified. "How I'm related to you is beyond me," he said, though Pony knew he was joking. "It's a car, Pone. A fast one."

"And who was stupid enough to lend it to you?"

Soda grinned. "Some Soc got the key from his drunk friend. You remember I told you last year I got to drive a Mustang? People are real cool here… they're after a decent show, they don't much care if a greaser shows them or not."

Ponyboy nodded. "You sure you can drive it okay?" Sure, he was confident in Soda's abilities as a driver, but he didn't consider racing to be "driving". More like cheating death.

"Quit worrying, Pone, I drive fine," Soda assured him.

Soda found the car he'd been given and pulled it up where they were supposed to start. He'd be going against Tim Shepard today, which was good. Tim was a decent opponent. He hadn't let Ponyboy ride with him this time; he wanted to win, and Pony was only deadweight and a distraction, much as he loved him. He wound down his window. "Hey, Tim!" he called, gaining the other's attention. "Automatic transmission is for pussies."

Tim gave him the finger, and Soda laughed. Yeah, Tim was a good opponent.

On the sidelines, trying not to get pushed around by boys far older and bigger than he was, Pony watched the stretch of road with growing anticipation. The fact that Sodapop was probably safer in this car as it probably had better traction kept getting pushed to the back of his mind. Pony didn't worry as much as Darry, but he worried enough. He worried now.

Mr Brumley walked out to the middle of the road, leaning heavily on a cane. Even from his position, Pony could detect the old man's stench when the wind blew it towards him. He was probably too senile to take a bath. In fact, he probably thought he was the same age as everyone else here. He'd certainly forgotten sacking Soda.

Pony began biting his fingernails as the elderly man let his hand fall and started the race. Tim and Soda shot forward, faster than Pony had ever seen either drive. Curly might have thought he was good, but he was nothing in comparison to his brother. There was no denying it: Tim could drive.

Pony managed a smile as Soda passed him. He knew it wasn't worth much; in fact if he ever discovered Soda was looking at him give that smile he'd kill him, but he needed to be supportive. And he really did hope Soda won; he'd certainly been excited enough about it.

Inside the car, Soda was marveling at how wonderful it was to drive this thing. It was so much smoother than their own car, or Two-Bit's or Steve's. And it was fast too. The only thing was that he wasn't sure if it was fast enough to beat Tim.

Automatic transmission may have been for pussies, but Soda had to admit it was really helping Tim be consistent. His own speed was changing minutely every now and then, and it could be the difference between winning and losing this race.

The finish line, marked as always by two empty bottles, was approaching swiftly, and both Tim and Soda tried coaxing their cars into going faster. Was it just Soda's imagination, or was Tim pulling ahead little by little? With one last burst of determination, Soda urged the car to go just that much faster, he pulled ahead of Tim, and crossed the line first.

Ponyboy watched as Soda stopped and reversed all the way back to the start of the race. He hadn't been able to tell who came in front, but Sodapop's smile as he climbed out of the car said it all. Ponyboy ran up and hugged him. "You were right, Soda," he muttered.

Soda looked down at him. "Right about what?"

"I ain't ever gonna drive like you. I'm fine with that. You wouldn't have showed me this if I could, and I like having something to do with you."

Sodapop disentangled himself and pushed away the hand that was shoving beer in his face. A crowd had gathered around the road, whether trying to congratulate the winner or get a look at the car, neither of the boys were sure. "You're the best little brother in the world," said Soda. "We'll always have stuff to do together. Now I've done my share of driving… how about you take us home?"

X X X X

It didn't take long for Pony to start getting stressed. He was tired, and the traffic on the road was surprisingly heavy. He wished Soda would drive, but he kept insisting that he believed in Ponyboy's abilities, and that he could do it.

"We're going to have to turn right soon," said Soda calmly, ignoring Pony's tense posture and how hard he gripped the steering wheel, "so move into the right lane when you can, remember to check your blind spot and make sure you don't slow down while you overtake."

Pony tried to take all the information in at once. He tried looking everywhere at once, realized how futile that was, so tried instead taking turns looking in every direction. When he saw a gap in the traffic wide enough for him to fit, he concentrated all he could on going a little faster than the guy behind, a little slower than the guy in front. _Match their speed, match their speed, match their speed_, he kept telling his mind.

He was so focused on matching their speed that he failed to look ahead. Soda's shout came too late; he was already going through a red light. He thought he heard some kind of crunch, and he thought he felt intense pain shoot through him. But it happened so fast it might have been his imagination, and before he knew it his surroundings disappeared, giving way to darkness.

X X X X

**A/N**: The car Soda got his hands on cost about the equivalent of the amount a Soc in my class got from his parents to buy a car when he passed his driving test, so it is feasible a Soc kid would own one. That took a lot of thought in writing.

Oh, I'm excited, on Tuesday I'm leaving the ages Johnny and Soda were in the book and entering the ages Steve and Dally were. Yes, I think of my age in terms of the book… I'm going to be very disappointed when I turn 21.

So… reviews? Theories, predictions? Anyone correct shall receive… the right to give me their heater! I don't have one, and winter's a-coming… I've been using my laptop to heat my legs and wearing a whole heap of jackets on top. Oh yes, I feel like a greaser! I don't mind; I like the cold.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N**: Aren't you glad I don't leave months between updating on cliffy chappies? Thanks so much for everyone who left a review, they warmed me up on this cold, cold night!

X X X X

Darry scribbled out another figure, frowning in both concentration and frustration. He was trying to figure out how best to pay Soda's latest hospital bill: should he take funds from the money he'd been setting aside for the six-month deadline or should he take them from somewhere else, such as the money he was using to get his house repaired? Not everything was covered by insurance. Unfortunately the house was just as important as the deadline fund: if he didn't prove he was serious about giving his brothers a place to stay he'd find himself without either one.

He groaned as the phone rang and he forgot the number he'd been just about to write down. "What?" he said abruptly. He was tired; he'd had no sleep and he'd been working all day. He knew he sounded rude, but at that point he didn't particularly care.

He couldn't hear anything on the other line, just someone breathing. If this was someone trying to prank call him… "Dare?" said a small voice.

Darry's mood changed instantly from anger to worry. "Soda? That you?"

"Yeah, Dare, I –" His voice hitched on the last word and Darry could hear him crying, then coughing violently. He wondered what was going on; if they were calling about Soda having an attack why wasn't Pony talking?

"Soda, calm down," he said, trying to keep the fear from his own voice. "Tell me what happened."

Soda kept coughing, and now Darry could hear someone else in the background, though not what they were saying. One thing was certain, though; that voice was not Ponyboy's. "Put Pony on the phone."

"No." There was so much sadness in the one word, and it frightened Darry to the core.

"Did… did you two have a fight?" The thought alone was unimaginable, but Soda did sound sad enough for it to be true.

"No," Soda said again. "Darry, he – we crashed."

Darry felt his whole world fall with just that one word. It wasn't possible. How could they have crashed? It was only a couple of nights ago that they'd been laughing at Soda's woeful attempt at dinner. They'd only been gone an hour. What could possibly happen in an hour?

_A lot can happen in __an hour_, his traitorous mind whispered to him. _Your parents had been gone an hour when they crashed, even if it took a bit longer for them to tell you._

"Soda, please, please tell me you're both all right," Darry said, biting his lip even as he talked. "Put Pony on the phone!"

Soda said nothing, but now Darry could make out what the man in the background was saying. "You need to come outside now, son, come on, the ambulance has what you need…"

"SODA, WHY THE HELL IS THERE AN AMBULANCE THERE?" Darry screamed at his younger brother, only causing Soda to cry harder. "_Where's Ponyboy_?"

"Darry, he's _in_ the ambulance!" Soda shrieked.

Darry's whole world seemed to stop. There was nothing left but himself and the phone in his hand, his single lifeline to the brothers he had tried so hard to stay with. Soda was all right. He just had to keep reminding himself that. Soda was okay, maybe a little banged up, but he was talking! Pony… God, he was _alive_, wasn't he? He had to be. Dead people did not need ambulances.

A single memory lanced through his consciousness then, so blinding he almost dropped the phone he was so desperate to hold onto. Dally's body, riddled with bullets, being covered over with a sheet before being loaded onto an ambulance. Oh no. Oh Christ no. No… he'd trade anything! "Soda, please," he whispered, shocked at how… how vulnerable he sounded. "Please tell me he's alive."

A short silence. Then, those blessed words. "He's alive, Dare." Darry placed a hand over his eyes to try and stop the tears. Pony was alive. Both of them… alive. Thank God…

"Darry, I have – I have to go…" And he probably did. He sounded absolutely awful.

"I'll meet you there," Darry promised quietly. "I love you, Soda. Tell… tell Pony I love him too."

"I will," Soda promised, coughing again. "Bye, Dare."

He hung up. As though he were simply a spirit floating above, Darry watched himself as he fell forward onto the table and cried.

X X X X

It had all happened so fast. Pony wasn't concentrating enough, and he missed spotting the red light. When Sodapop realized he wasn't going to stop on his own, he shouted out to him, but it was too late. They shot through the light.

Soda turned his head on reflex to try and prevent the flying glass that came from the impact on Pony's side of the car from hitting his eyes. He was lucky, too; he felt sudden pain in the back of his head as well as on his left arm, and knew if he hadn't turned he would have received some serious damage to his face. He began to cough violently from the shock, the stabbing pain in his lungs adding to the pain in the rest of his body, and at the same time as he tried to calm his wildly beating heart he forced himself not to fall into the trap of unconsciousness that was beckoning him as he felt the car continue, somehow, moving forward. Reaching blindly with his throbbing left arm, he pulled up the handbrake, relief flooding him when he felt the car slow.

He opened his eyes and deduced that they had driven off the road completely onto the grass next to the intersection. Blinking hard against the haze continuing to obstruct his vision, he turned and was almost sick.

He'd known from the direction of the flying glass that the impact had come from Pony's side of the car, but stupidly, he hadn't prepared himself for the sight that might greet him. It was clear to him that Ponyboy was unconscious, and he could see his arm bent at an odd angle. But what scared him most was the blood. Sodapop had seen the blood on his own form, but when he looked at Pony he had to reevaluate his estimate on how much of it a human being could hold. His baby brother was covered in it, and it was so dark that Soda couldn't see where it was coming from. He reached forward with a hand that was still shaking from the effects of the medication and put his fingers against Ponyboy's neck.

There was a pulse.

The relief he felt was tempered by the fact that he suddenly couldn't get enough air. He choked and gasped, trying to calm his body down, when he noticed the smoke beginning to come from underneath the hood of the truck.

He didn't have a choice now; he needed his lungs to calm down fast. He undid his seatbelt as he pulled the inhaler from his pocket, using it several times and then banging himself of his chest to try and get his heart to stop thumping manically. He reached out, but it took him several tries to free Pony from his seatbelt; he was shaking too hard. Praying he didn't have any injuries apart from the broken arm, Soda pulled Pony towards him, using his uninjured arm to push open his door.

He half carried, half dragged Ponyboy as far as he could from the imminent danger the truck posed, collapsing on the ground when he couldn't go any further. He tried to stop himself from lying down; he knew if he did he'd have even more trouble breathing, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to remain upright; he was feeling very dizzy. Through the haze his vision had become, he saw some people running towards him. Good. He'd just tell them to let him lean on them. He wouldn't have to keep fighting much longer.

X X X X

Soda sniffed as he sat in the waiting room, watching all the other families around him and trying to judge what their loved ones were in for based on their expressions, if only to distract himself from why he was really here. There was the bored looking man writing in a notepad and checking his watch periodically – probably someone's accident attorney. There were the girls in the corner reading a magazine and giggling – judging by their similar features they were two sisters waiting for a third who had broken an arm or leg. Then there were the others, the ones whose faces looked so bleak or, like his, tear streaked that he knew they either didn't know about their loved one's condition or they knew that they were possibly not going to make it. Soda felt he fell into both categories.

He glanced up when he thought he saw someone out of the corner of his eye, and his suspicions proved correct when he saw a strangely lost looking Darry standing there, hands deep in pockets. Soda stood up and, not caring who was watching, went up and hugged him.

"Hey, Pepsi-Cola," said Darry softly. It had been a while since he had been called that, and the thought only made him cry more. He'd always been the bawl baby of the family, and in all honesty, the hospital was scaring him.

"Pony's in surgery," Soda mumbled. It kept replaying in his mind… how the other car had smashed into them, how he had turned his head to the side to avoid getting broken glass in his eyes, how he had turned back to see Pony with his eyes shut and looking strangely pale.

"What happened?" Darry asked. "You alright?" He touched the bandage on Soda's upper arm gingerly and eyed the one wrapped around his head.

"Glass," explained Soda. "Pony accidentally went through a red light… he didn't hear me warn him…"

Darry sighed, trying to keep rein on his emotions. "Come on, let's sit down."

They found two of the most secluded seats they possibly could in a room positively buzzing with people and sat down, Darry wringing his hands and Soda fidgeting. They knew he wouldn't be even halfway through surgery yet; they had only been brought in a half hour ago, and both brothers knew they would have had to do all sorts of tests and measurements beforehand. Soda shuddered at the thought. He'd been here plenty of times, but it seemed so much more strange and frightening when he wasn't the one feeling, for lack of a better term, drugged up.

The people in the waiting room were bad enough. The people being brought past in wheelchairs or stretchers – they were a lot worse. Some of them were moaning, while others had this frightening look in their eyes that made them appear as though there was literally no conscious thought behind those eyes. And others still were just motionless as all sorts of things were being done to them. It was horrifying.

"What's the matter, little buddy?" Darry asked, again doing the "Darry thing" and taking out all his worries and stress on caring for other people.

"Do – do I ever look like those people?" Soda asked quietly as yet another of the people who looked like they could not think was taken past in a wheelchair. He had plenty of memories in which he'd felt too exhausted to think, when he'd lie there and see all the people around him but have no idea what they were saying and, worse, he wouldn't care.

"What people?" Soda pointed as discreetly as he could manage and Darry's mouth opened in an "Oh" of realization. "Sometimes? Yeah… yeah you do."

Soda swallowed thickly. He hated being drunk. He'd tried it, certainly, but the reason he avoided beer was that he could not imagine anything more frightening than not being in control of his own body and thoughts. That was exactly what those people were like, and now both Darry's words and Sodapop's own memories were confirming that he, too, had been just another mindless zombie in a building full of people exactly like that.

X X X X

Soda shivered. He had been sitting in this building for what seemed like years, but it was only now that he began to feel cold, as though he had been outdoors in the sun for too long before coming into a shop that was far too air conditioned. He knew why, of course. Not only was the room kept slightly too cool for his liking, but he knew what he was about to find out could well change him forever.

After what had seemed like a reasonable length of time, Darry and Soda had both started demanding answers from anyone who looked like hospital staff. The answers were always the same: "When we know something, someone will come and fetch you."

It had gone on for hours, it must have been, not that either brother's perception of time was completely intact. Finally, one of the nurses approached them and told them to wait here, in this small meeting room. And that was where they were now, sitting in a couple of chairs in a room of almost blinding white light, nothing more than two children hoping fools' hopes and praying fools' prayers.

In all the times Darry had been here, whether for Pony or Soda, he couldn't remember being asked into this room, or any other like it. He tried to console himself by reminding himself that this was a big hospital, and maybe they just wanted to clear the waiting room, but the other part of his mind whispered more horrible thoughts. Would they have been taken here five years ago had Soda arrived some other way than their own car, to be informed that there wasn't much hope? Or was this what they did when the doctors wanted to say those hideous words, "I'm sorry"? He also couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't allowed Pony to learn to drive just yet. Soda had been such a dream to teach that he'd assumed Pony would have no trouble whatsoever. He probably should have remembered Mom and Dad teaching Pony to read. At the age of three he had overtaken Soda, who threw a fuss anytime books were mentioned. It seemed that if one of the two were lacking something, the other would have it in spades. They were a matched set, and Darry wasn't sure either half of the set would cope if the other were ripped away.

_Yes, but that won't happen_, he told his brain sternly. God, he hoped he was right.

Soda was an absolute wreck by this stage. Not knowing anything about Pony was driving him insane, but even more horrifying were his feelings of guilt. He had been so confident in Pony's abilities that he had forgotten that he was just a kid who wasn't even legally old enough to learn to drive. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that if he had been more attentive Pony wouldn't be stuck in there, probably in a lot of pain. Soda could have driven, and if he had, he knew he was good enough to avoid running the light.

And those thoughts led to others, thoughts spanning across his whole life. He couldn't possibly have been that sick when the house burned down. Randy, after all, had been fine. And he had gone all selfish and forced Darry into spending money he couldn't afford, getting them a day in court to top it all off. Darry had been called abusive. It wouldn't have happened if Soda had fought those guys off.

But even before the last few weeks, Soda could recall instances when his own selfishness had ended badly for other people. Most of his school friends' mothers, all throughout his life, had never had jobs. His had. Sure, she had only worked a small amount at a handful of small businesses, but she'd worked all the same, and been called awful things because of it. Was that _his _fault? Of course it was. And he only had to think about that stupid move he pulled at the track meet when he was twelve to know it. God, how much strain had that put on the family? It had cost him several days of his life; he'd been too afraid to ask how many exactly, but at least he had been unconscious. Was this horrible feeling of worry and uncertainty what he'd forced his family to live with for not just that week, but the countless other days or weeks in the past? He couldn't imagine anything more horrible.

Even – he was scarcely brave enough to think it – even what happened to Johnny and Dally was his fault. If he hadn't been so scared, if he had have just forgotten that stupid promise he'd made to himself after the track meet disaster, he would have followed Ponyboy when he ran. He would have made him come home, and brought Johnny along too. Johnny wouldn't have killed the Soc, the church fire would never have happened, and Dally wouldn't have committed suicide in that hideous way.

He was too wrapped up in his own gloom even to remember how sick he was.

He cuddled into Darry's side, trying to seek shelter from the sudden overwhelming cloud of sadness that had settled upon him. Looking up onto the wall, he spotted a poster labelling the parts of the brain and their functions. He didn't know why it was here; it was not a school and if the doctors needed to refer to posters to know what they were doing then quite frankly he didn't want them treating him. But it served him well at that moment, if only as a distraction. He read it, over and over again, until it was nothing more than a monotonous drone in his mind. This way, he didn't have to think.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor everyone. FYI, I'm not being sexist about what I said about their mother being called horrible things for getting a job; women weren't expected to work in the 50's and 60's and those that did were put down a lot. In fact there was a court case recently about a woman who got married and was bullied at work for "not being at home to look after her husband". Disgusting.

Please take the time to review! Who wants to wave a magic wand and make Pony all better? I do, but I am a humble author, nothing more than a slave to the plot. Cal's Master Plan has been set in motion and nothing can stop it now.


	49. Chapter 49

**A/N**: Thanks so much to reviewers! I'm very disappointed – I turned seventeen and screwed up my perfect Outsiders family. I was sixteen, had a kid sister aged fourteen and an older sister aged twenty. We were like the chick non-orphaned Curtises… then I screwed it up. Sorry, family, lol…

X X X X

Twelve agonizing minutes after Darry and Soda were brought into the room a man walked in. He took a seat opposite them and flicked through his file briefly before facing Darry. "You are Darrel Curtis, guardian of Ponyboy Curtis?" he asked. Darry nodded shortly. "Well, fortunately your brother looks a lot worse on the outside than he does on the inside. He was cut quite extensively from the glass from the window, but most of it is reasonably superficial. We had to give him more blood to replace the blood he's lost, and he has a concussion, which was why he was knocked unconscious on impact. He may experience back problems, but as I didn't want to risk opening his spine up to check, I can't be sure; it's just very common in side impact collisions. The biggest issue is the internal bleeding we discovered putting pressure on his kidney and several broken ribs on the left side putting pressure on his lung, so we'll be monitoring him closely for any sign of danger from that. And of course, you know about the broken arm."

Neither of the brothers said anything at first. Eventually Darry asked for directions to Pony's room and once they were given, they left without another word.

"The police talked to me," said Soda suddenly as they waited at the elevator doors.

Darry sighed, looking him over carefully. He looked exhausted, and his eyes were still red from crying. He wished he could make Soda go home and get some rest, but he was certain his orders would be ignored. He didn't blame him. If their positions had been reversed, Darry would refuse to leave until he had seen his baby brother too. "What did they say?" he asked Sodapop. He was wondering how much trouble he was going to get in for letting Pony drive, but he wouldn't dwell on it. As long as both his brothers were alive and (for the most part) healthy, he didn't care.

"I had to pull Pony out of the car; the engine was smoking," explained Soda. "The fire crew dealt with that before it destroyed the truck, but it meant I could tell them I was the one driving." Darry nodded, indicating for Soda to continue. "They were a bit surprised… they obviously figured the driver would be the one more injured, but I convinced them. Told them I ducked. Course, if Pony had've ducked he probably would have broke his neck…" Soda broke off, shuddering involuntarily. He'd seen a bad enough sight without his imagination making it worse.

The elevator dinged and Darry and Soda got in. "So what's gonna happen to you?" Darry asked.

"Nothing too bad," said Soda quietly, pushing the button for Pony's floor. "I lost a few points on my license and I have to pay a fine. Thing was, we were the only ones injured: the guy who hit us was fine. His car's a bit banged up, but he was a nice guy. I told him I could get him a discount with Steve and we called it even."

"You know Steve can't just hand out discounts, don't you?" Darry asked.

Sodapop nodded. "Yeah, but it's better than being sued. If Steve can't find a way to do it I guess I'll pay for the extra. I'll have to pick up some extra hours, but…"

"Soda," Darry interrupted, "you do know this ain't your fault, don't you?"

Soda didn't answer, for at that moment the door opened and they exited the elevator. Well, this was it. It was time to see with their own eyes exactly how much damage the accident had caused their youngest brother.

X X X X

"Two-Bit, she ain't gonna go out with you!"

"You wanna bet, Stevie? Look at her, look in her eyes. If she's not checking me out, then I'm a jellyfish."

"For all you know she's looking at me."

"Yeah, you wish." Two-Bit next to pawed at the screen, trying to see down the new weather girl's blouse. "C'mon baby, just one more button…" he mumbled.

Steve rolled his eyes, and as he did so he spotted a certain pretty thing coming up the driveway towards Two-Bit's house. Unfortunately, he'd had just about enough of pretty things. He stood up and went to try and get rid of her.

He opened the door forcefully, surprising Evie who had just been poised to knock. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked guilty – as she damn well should. Steve folded his arms and tried to make himself look big. "What d'you want?" he demanded.

She looked down. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry," she began, "but it seems you don't want to hear it."

"What?" Steve asked, genuinely surprised. "Yeah, sure baby, I want to hear it. You know I missed you…"

She gritted her teeth in irritation at his lewd behaviour. "Don't, I ain't in the mood," she snapped. "I'm sorry for saying all them things about you and Sandy… guess I should've remembered she doesn't have a boyfriend at all. Guess that's where that advice gets you."

"Guess so," grunted Steve, who still felt sore about being pushed around by his girlfriend.

"Anyway… I sold the earrings. Here's you money back." She pushed a few bills into Steve's hand. "If we can make this work… give me a call sometime, won't you?"

"Maybe," said Steve, not willing to give up his newly acquired control. He said goodbye and closed the door. He'd have to give this money to Darry when he got back from wherever he was at. He'd left without a word, and Steve had the feeling he was going to come back with a grounded Soda and Pony. He seemed to have a sixth sense for misbehaviour on their part. Steve still thought Soda was taking Pony to a rodeo or party or something when they went out for a "driving lesson". His excuses for why they were gone so late seemed pitifully weak.

X X X X

**A/N**: There you have it! I'd love some reviews :) they make me smile, and I'm gonna need it; have an exam tomorrow and I needed to relax before bed, so I updated. Theories?


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N**: _House _is surprisingly medically inaccurate. The X-ray _flashed_, for God's sake. If you think an X-ray flashes, you have had a VERY lucky life when it comes to health.

Thanks so much to reviewers! I'm sorry this took a little long; had one of those awful weeks in which everything that could go wrong went wrong. Managed to score 5 out of 15 on an English exam. This chapter is for my teacher. I'm a better writer than you will EVER be! Mark this, b!$*% (I'm sorry, but I'm _very _bitter; no matter _what _I do I keep failing. At least Susie did too!)

X X X X

Darry went in first, pushing the door open slowly, afraid of what he might find. His eyes flew around the room, looking anywhere but the bed, wishing there was some way Ponyboy would magically recover before he had to see him. Soda had told him how much blood there was, and it was all over his clothes. Darry didn't want to see the reality of it.

Finally he looked. If you discounted all the equipment and the bright white hospital issue sheets, he could almost imagine Pony was asleep in his own bed. But no – he couldn't. Pony had a long cut on the left side of his face that was stitched up – it actually looked a lot like the scar Johnny got from the Soc's rings. His left arm was resting atop the sheets in a cast, but Darry could see bruising going down his arm into it. There was probably much more, too, many more injuries Darry could not even see.

Soda came in behind him, his hands shaking so hard he had to fold his arms on top of them to stop it bothering him. He tried not to feel guilty, but it was difficult, almost like trying to tame a lion inside him. He couldn't stand seeing Pony sick. He just couldn't, especially not now that he felt it was his fault.

Neither of the two older brothers said anything as Darry pulled a couple of chairs closer and they say down to wait.

It took Pony a couple of hours to wake up. He woke slowly, shifting so slightly neither Darry nor Soda noticed, then more forcefully. Soda had to try and make his heart settle down, but at the same time his excitement was growing at the prospect of finally being able to talk to his brother. Darry leaned forward, afraid to touch his youngest brother with all the cuts and bruises, not to mention the broken arm. He'd never seen Pony this badly off before. It felt incredibly confronting.

Ponyboy's eyes moved beneath the lids, and Soda began muttering words of encouragement to him. Darry followed his lead, calling Pony out of the blackness and back with them. Finally, Pony's eyes opened and slid over towards his two brothers. He blinked hard, squinting. "Freakin' blurry," he mumbled.

Soda grinned widely, relief flooding him. "Hi, Pony," he said in greeting.

Pony blinked again, long and slow, a little like a sleepy horse. "Soda? How come your hair's white?"

Soda frowned and pulled a strand of hair in front of his eyes to inspect it, but Darry understood what Pony had meant. "It's a bandage, Pone," he explained. "You guys crashed pretty bad… do you remember?"

Ponyboy blinked again. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I thought I imagined it, but…"

"But you didn't," Soda finished for him. He was glad Pony wasn't quite coherent yet; his voice sounded a little more upset than he wanted it to. He still couldn't help looking at Pony's cast and wishing with everything he had that it had been him driving, not Ponyboy. He stifled a cough, knowing that if he started he wouldn't be able to stop.

"Sorry I crashed, Soda," Pony said almost incoherently. "S'pose you ain't gonna teach me no more…" His eyes closed, but they opened again a few seconds later.

Sodapop swallowed hard. "You mean you want me to teach you?" he asked hopefully.

Pony frowned in confusion. The medicine sure was making him dopey. "Course I do," he said sleepily. "Why the hell not…"

"Go to sleep, little buddy," Darry intervened, and Pony smiled softly as he let himself drift back into a drug induced sleep. That was the second time Darry called him that…

Pony's breathing evened out, and Darry put a hand on Soda's shoulder, looking at him seriously. "See?" he whispered. "He loves you."

Soda tried to sigh with relief, but he ended up coughing. "Yeah, Dare," he whispered back. "Yeah, I know. I was being stupid."

"You sure were…" Darry looked back at Pony. Even as drugged up as he was, he still looked strangely young and innocent as he slept. Darry thought about how much he loved him, because he did. He just wished he could show that when his youngest brother wasn't unconscious.

He still had yet to tell him he'd finished reading the theme.

There was something nagging at Soda. Every single time he tried focusing on it, though, it just ran further and further away. He tried not to let it bother him, and just focus on what he was meant to be focusing on – Ponyboy – but he just couldn't. Somehow, whatever it was seemed important.

He rubbed his chest as his heart began to race again. It seemed to happen randomly, then he'd wait for it to settle, and it would to some degree. It was really starting to annoy him though, almost like that stupid idea that wouldn't quite enter his brain. It made him feel disconnected from Ponyboy – everything did. He couldn't hold his hand because one arm was covered in a cast and the other was filled with needles – Soda was afraid that with his shaking he'd almost certainly cause some degree of pain to Pony. So he just sat there, waiting, listening to the beeping of the heart monitor and willing his own heart to follow it.

_Beep… Beep… Beep… _It invaded his consciousness. It meant something, he knew it. But what?

_Beep… Beep… Beep… _Why couldn't his own heart follow that rhythm?

_Beep… Beep… Beep… _Wait a minute, why _wasn't _his heart following that? There was nothing wrong with it. He'd just taken too much medication to control his breathing.

Sodapop let out a gasp as he realized what his subconscious had been trying to tell him.

X X X X

**A/N**: What has Soda realized? Oh, what has he realized? We could turn that into a song and make a million.

Reviews? Theories? Correct ones receive my schooling: you can go to school, and I'll take your summer vacation. Poor ol' Cal doesn't get a summer vacation this year (sadface).


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N**: Two chapters in a day, lucky you guys! Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed; I really do appreciate it! Can't believe this is 51 chapters, holy shindiggzz…

X X X X

It was all Soda could do not to run. He would have, too, if he knew he wouldn't stop breathing. He'd waited here all night, with Ponyboy physically but not quite there mentally. He'd spent the night running over his tentative discovery in his mind, refining it and, above all, making sure he did not forget it. _That _would be a disaster.

Pony had made Darry go home, but Soda had refused to budge. He'd been too excited. He was now hurrying off to the room that served as his workplace, hoping he was right.

"Wow," said Jonathan as soon as he entered, "you're actually on time." He hadn't turned around; he knew Soda's step by now.

Soda didn't respond to the jibe. "I thought of something."

Jonathan turned around and faced him. His face paled instantly. "Lord, what the hell happened to you?" he cried.

Sodapop glanced down at himself, remembering that he had bandages across he cuts in his head and arm and he was still covered in his baby brother's blood. "Car crash," he muttered, pulling out a chair and sitting. "I thought of something."

"So you said," remarked Jonathan. "You sure you're not dying?"

Soda rolled his eyes. "It's not my blood," he said quietly, trying not to think whose blood it really was.

The other grinned wryly. "So you say you thought of something?"

"I overdosed on my medication," Soda began, "and ended up here. My heart was racing too much. Still is actually," he added as an afterthought.

"Yes, you don't want that, do you?" Jonathan said, tapping his pen against the desk idly.

Sodapop stared at him intently, gazing at him the same way he gazed at Two-Bit when he wanted him to shut up. "You're telling me," he muttered. "Anyway, I crashed the car last night and my brother was hurt. He's okay now, but I was really scared. I started reading those information posters that label different parts of the body and that, just so I could distract myself. This one was of the brain."

"So?" Jonathan said.

"One of the parts – I don't remember which – controls your heart and your breathing both. I figure if my inhaler's supposed to help me breathe but it ends up messing with my heart, it's not actually helping my lungs, it's helping my brain."

Jonathan frowned. He looked at Sodapop for a long while, then broke his gaze and leaned over the desk for the phone. He dialed a number, still tapping his pen against the desk as he waited for the person on the other end to pick up. "Hello, Dr," he said after a few moments. "You'd never believe it. I think the kid's onto something."

X X X X  
Jonathan and Falkens both had told Soda to take the rest of the day off as they went and did what Sodapop liked to call "doctor speak". He was well aware that their intentions were for him to go home and rest after the night he'd had, but he'd just headed straight off to Ponyboy's room. He was too excited to sleep, anyway.

Pony was more coherent by this stage; he'd been taken off the stronger of the painkillers. He almost laughed when he saw Soda – covered in blood and still fairly pale with exhaustion – but he stopped when he found it hurt his injured side. "Soda, you gotta get home," he insisted.

Sodapop glanced down at himself, something he'd been doing quite often, and shrugged at Pony. "You of all people should know it's not my blood," he said, smiling.

"Someone's gonna make you check yourself in if you go around looking like that," Pony said. "Besides, my vision's cleared up now they've got rid of whatever they were pumping into me, and I want a book, and I know you want to get one for me."

Soda's face fell; he knew Pony had him. "Fine," he said, "but only because I love you." He ruffled Pony's hair playfully, carefully avoiding the left side where he knew Pony had been most injured from the car accident. "What book do you want?"

Ponyboy sighed heavily, wincing as it aggravated his ribs. These white walls were the same walls Johnny had seen right before his death… it almost seemed like he was here with him. What would Johnny like to read? "If you could find my copy of _Gone with the Wind_, that'd be great, Soda," he said, his tone melancholy.

Soda picked up at once on Pony's change in mood. "What's up, little brother?"

"Nothing," said Pony obstinately. "I hate hospitals, that's all."

Soda remembered his thoughts the previous night, how he'd felt about seeing all those empty eyes go past him. Yes, he knew what Pony was talking about. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry you're in here."

Pony waved him off with his good hand. "Hell, I'm the one who can't drive worth a toss." He grinned. "You didn't do anything but be a real awesome brother. You can get my toothbrush, too."

Sodapop nodded. "Sure."

X X X X

It was on the bus back to Two-Bit's house that the exhaustion really started to hit Sodapop. He wanted to lie back and sleep, but he'd really struggled telling the bus driver that he wasn't dying and to let him get on. If he shut his eyes the guy would probably drop him off at the nearest medical practice and make him go in there.

He let himself into the house and grabbed something to eat from the fridge. Darry had scrawled a note to him and put it up there, telling him where Pony's things were and to get some sleep. Sodapop had to grin at how accurate it was.

He prepared a bag for Pony, putting in necessities like his toothbrush and plenty of pajamas. He made sure he changed his own clothes and threw the ones he had been wearing in the bin; it made him slightly sick to even think of washing them free from Pony's blood and putting them back on again.

The truck was stuck at the DX waiting for Steve to repair it, so Soda had to catch the bus back again. It didn't take too much longer, but it was a little annoying to sit there looking like a little kid when he was plenty old enough to drive. Yes, that was juvenile thinking, but he could have sworn everybody was staring at him.

He got off the bus and made his way up to Ponyboy's room. He still felt hopeful about what Jonathan had said on the phone, that he might be onto something. He couldn't help thinking that the idea should have been obvious to anyone with a medical degree, but then, anyone with a medical degree didn't think exactly like he did. They could all go home after work and resumed a normal life. He actually had to live it.

Once he arrived at the room, Pony made him go to sleep on the chair next to his bed. Soda obliged , stretching out his legs and putting them on the bed before shutting his eyes. He slept well then. His baby brother would be alright, and he might just have changed his life for the better.

X X X X

**A/N**: There ya go, well within tears's 48 hour limit! What can I say, I got out of school and I just love updating. Theories? Will Soda's life really change for the better? Is Ponyboy really alright? Is Darry really a human? All shall be answered if you REVIEW.

There really is a part of the brain that controls breathing and heartbeat – it's called the medulla oblongata. See, my research _does _come from another source than _House_!


	52. Chapter 52

**A****/N**: _Glee _is making me depressed. There's a very strong message of individuality and the power of the human spirit to overcome the Establishment that people seem to enjoy turning a blind eye to. _Glee_ mentioned the folly of dress codes… well how about school uniforms? Pure evil. Yes, I feel dramatic!

Thanks so much to reviewers! Big hugs are being sent your way. Updates are gonna have to start slowing down since _the enemy _has put me back in a position where I'm gonna be taking at least one all nighter this week, more next week. But you guys actually _reward _me for putting effort into my work, so I choose you first. Yes, I feel _very _dramatic.

X X X X

"Geez Soda, where were you, Vietnam?" Two-Bit cried. He'd just come home from school, and he had been wondering where Pony was all day. He should have noticed the brothers' absence this morning, but he wasn't the most coherent fellow in the mornings, and for all he knew they were off doing… brotherly stuff, whatever that was. He wouldn't know. Now he came home to find Sodapop sleeping, and damn well looking like he needed it.

Soda stirred at the voice. He tried yawning and stopped when the usual pain revealed itself, complemented by the throbbing pain in his head. The painkillers they had used in the hospital to put in the stitches were long since worn off, and as far as he knew the only stuff they had in the house was Pony's aspirin, which he couldn't take. It was true: life was a lot rougher when one just woke up. "Hey Two-Bit," he said unenthusiastically.

"_Hey_? I get a _hey_? What the hell happened; where are Darry and Ponyboy?"

"Shut up, will ya? I got a headache," said Soda. He had found quite a nice spot to sleep at where the sun was streaming in and warming his lap quite nicely while staying out of his eyes. He was quite content to stay here for a year or two while the monster of a headache wore off.

"I can see you've got a goddamn headache! How'd you get it?"

"Shut _up_! Listen, Pony crashed the car last night," Sodapop explained. "He's alright, just remember that. He broke an arm and some ribs, and got a few nasty cuts. He's real lucky, considering it hit his side."

Two-Bit finally shut his mouth, sitting down next to Soda, stretching his legs out on the fold out bed. "Where's Darry?" he asked.

"He wasn't in the car. He had a fit when he found out. He said at one point it reminded him of Mom and Dad." Soda quieted down here, remembering. He was lucky; he'd had the adrenaline to live off and stop him even thinking about his parents until Darry had brought it up. Since then, Soda had been thinking to himself that maybe they should begin avoiding cars altogether. Darry was now the only one who had not been in a car accident. He brightened up. "I got a grand total of eighteen stitches. Tuff, huh?"

"Cool!" said Two-Bit. The boys had always shown off about how many stitches they managed to get; the more someone got, the tougher they were. Soda's mom had always said they were being stupid when they did it, and so had Sandy. Maybe it was a girl thing.

X X X X

Darry walked into Ponyboy's hospital room right as the nurse was leaving. She seemed the type that stressed easily; every time Darry had come across her in the short time Pony had been in hospital she had looked like she was running half an hour late to her own wedding, and her walk was too brisk to be called strictly professional. It was for that reason Darry didn't stop to bother her, but he just decided to spare her the hassle and ask Pony himself. "How're you feeling?" he questioned him, sitting down next to the bed.

"Sick. They just served me something they called _lunch_," Pony complained, screwing up his nose in distaste.

Darry laughed. "Sorry buddy, I'll try and sneak something in next time. I know how bad hospital food can be." No matter how cheerful Darry tried to be, he couldn't help looking at the scar on Pony's face and think about everyone he had already lost. Darry had gone through the teenage stage of feeling invincible himself, and though he had been cured of that by a horrendously painful case of appendicitis when he was seventeen, he still felt the concept of mortality was quite confronting for him. He wasn't an old man. He shouldn't have to think about death. And yet here he was, two parents and two friends dead, with two little brothers he'd almost lost several times, whether it be to illness or Socs or Windrixville or fires, or to social workers. Yes, Darry had grown old far before his time. "How are you really?" he asked in a softer voice.

Pony shrugged his right shoulder. "I hurt," he said simply, "but I don't really see how talking's gonna help that. At least I know I'm getting better. The bruising's going down; they hope I can leave by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Darry repeated. "Good." He paused for a moment. "I uh… I finished your theme."

Pony's facial expression changed from shock to apprehension to joy to embarrassment in a split second. Clearly the poor kid didn't know what to think. "Did you like it?" he asked.

"Well, I liked the part where you realized what a child you were being about me," Darry said, but as soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Could he _not _control his mouth around Pony? _Stupid, stupid_! "I'm sorry," he said, trying to cover over his mistake. "I liked it fine, Pone. You're a great writer. Honestly though… I found it confronting."

Pony hadn't looked at Darry since his older brother had said he was being a child. "Confronting…" he mumbled.

"I'm not like you, Pony. I hide. I can't feel the way you do about everything; if I did, I'd explode. I couldn't cope." He sighed. "I'm on my lunchbreak… I need to get back. I'm going to get Soda to read that, Pony. I said it was confronting. I meant that it taught me something."

Ponyboy nodded stiffly, knowing if he let his emotions overtake him he'd start bawling. He concentrated on the memory of a puppy he had seen on the sidewalk the other day, hoping to distract himself as they said their goodbyes and Darry left. Yep, what he'd said to Cherry had been right. Greasers did feel too violently.

X X X X

**A/N**: I googled how many stitches to an inch of cut, got out a ruler and measured my own arm and head how long I imagined Soda's cuts to be, added some since I'm pretty sure he'd be more that 5 ft tall and therefore have more skin than me, and then put that number in there. Come on, who else can _so _see the boys showing off their stitch count?

You know, I've never had a bad hospital food experience. The only time I ever ate in a hospital they fed me jelly and ice cream and soda… though I was coming out of general and maybe I couldn't taste it properly, I dunno. But everyone says it's horrible, so…

Review please! Need… compliments… in… compliment… withdrawl… At least I _admit _I'm completely desperate. I swear I'm gonna be the worst girlfriend ever.


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N**: I'm sorry this took so long. Unfortunately, frequent trips to the airport to pick up/drop off family members, spinal injuries that prevented typing, and evil teachers who believe in blackmail and will soon be sacked have gotten in my way. I'm on a two week break now, but I have six assignments to do in that time and unfortunately lots of family visiting and stuff, so we're still not good for the once a day updates… you've no idea how much I despise school…

Thank you _so much _to reviewers! I've missed them in this time! Thanks also to everyone who has me on fav/alert and to anyone still reading… you guys drop me a review too, kay? Seriously though, you're the best.

X X X X

"I sure ain't driving," said Ponyboy wryly as he was pushed in a wheelchair by a nurse towards the doors of the hospital.

"Sure ain't," Soda agreed. "You're ridiculously slow, and I need to be back to work in forty minutes."

They stopped at the doors, and Soda put a protective arm around Pony as he stood up and the nurse took the wheelchair away. "You know, if anyone else besides you had been in that car when I crashed, you'd never let me drive again."

"Don't think you're getting out that easy, Pone," said Soda, smiling as they walked out to the parking lot. "You know, if you had've been doing sixty miles there we wouldn't have crashed. That's why I reckon people shouldn't go below ninety around schools. That way, they spend less time in the area and are less likely to hit a kid."

Pony grinned, but it was a little strained. "You're crazy, Sodapop," he mumbled. "Slow down a bit, would ya?"

Soda apologized and they began to walk at a slower pace. Soda was borrowing Steve's car again, as theirs was in the shop, and he struggled for a few moments trying to jimmy the key exactly as Steve had shown him to open the car. The lock finally gave way, and Pony had to grin as he saw that his older brother had practically built a bed in the back seat, lining it with almost every cushion Mrs Mathews owned and laying a blanket down but folding the corner so Ponyboy could slip right in.

"I thought you might be tired," Soda explained bashfully as he noticed Pony's expression.

Ponyboy just shrugged and climbed in. "It's awful comfy."

"Yeah, I know," said Soda, sitting in the driver's seat. "I tested it."

Pony raised his eyebrows at this and smiled. He really was lucky to have Sodapop. Most people never got the chance to have such a loving family.

X X X X

As Sodapop drove himself back to the hospital after dropping Pony off at home he began to feel excited again. He'd been so thrilled when Jonathan had said he might be onto something. His hope for a normal life was once again at the forefront of his mind, and not even the knowledge that just because he'd made a decent suggestion didn't mean it would turn into anything dampened his spirits. Fool's hope was better than no hope at all.

His heart, which had started to slow down and reassume a regular beat began pumping erratically again. Soda grimaced in annoyance: he was already driving with one hand due to the pain in his left arm, and he didn't want to rub his chest with that arm because it would stretch the stitches. He hadn't used his inhaler in two days, a near record for him, and he wondered when the medication was finally going to leave his system for good. The shaking had already stopped, so it must have already started going. It was more irritating than anything else.

Soda pulled up in the parking lot and took the opportunity to rub his chest hard, which seemed to work for one reason or another. It calmed down as he went into the building, and was beating normally by the time he reached the room in which he worked.

Both Jonathan and Falkens were there now. They stopped talking as he entered, which would have made anyone else suspicious, but Sodapop was a trusting person. He pulled out a chair and sat on it. "Anything you need me to do?"

"We have a few questions for you," Jonathan said. "What you said the other night made sense; breathing and heart rate are controlled by the same part of the brain. You might also know that blood pressure rises during an attack?" He voiced it like a question.

"No," said Soda.

"Well, it rises dramatically. That's also controlled by the medulla oblongata. What about swallowing? Do you swallow a lot during an attack?"

Soda frowned, thinking. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm usually focused on something else." He smiled wryly.

"I thought you'd say that," Jonathan mumbled.

Falkens took over. "I was wondering if we could test you and focus on exactly what happens to your brain during an attack."

Unconsciously, Soda folded his arms and protectively wrapped them around himself. "You ain't gonna need to take blood, are you?"

The other two grinned at the naïveté of the question. "No," said Falkens, "but we might need to actually induce an attack."

Sodapop frowned. "I dunno… isn't that kinda stupid?"

"Normally, yes," admitted Falkens. "We'd do it here, obviously. It would be a controlled environment. Still, you know the risks involved better than I could explain them to you. The benefit is research. Think on it tonight; if you don't want to, that's fine, we can always find someone else."

Soda had a sudden image of himself as a lab rat with a tail and everything. He stifled a giggle. "Sure, I'll think on it."

X X X X

**A/N**: I have a question to all you American readers. At what age to you take control of your own body? Where I am it's sixteen: I sign my own consent forms and everything, but I know in a lot of fics I've read they show Johnny and Dally and Steve and Soda getting their forms signed by parent/guardian. I'd just like some clarification here.

Please drop me a review: they're greatly motivating, not to mention I do believe they are the FFN form of payment for a story. I'd never set a minimum review count for an update because that's totally dodgy, but I'd still love to hear from you lurkers!


	54. Chapter 54

**A/N**: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, and to the useful answers as to who controls your body. Am I the only one who thinks 18 is a little old? I mean, if I were Johnny I wouldn't want my folks controlling whether I get to have something vital like an appendectomy or something. Or maybe that's just me.

Wow, this story is now over 100,000 words! I swear I never meant to make it that long! The plot took control of me!

X X X X

Steve came round to Two-Bit's house that night. He hadn't been out much recently; he'd mostly been sitting in his room brooding, but it was time he caught back up with the gang. Besides, he still hadn't given Evie's money to Darry yet. He really needed to get onto that…

He was feeling so tired and vague that it took a moment to register that Pony was resting on the couch in front of the TV, a cast on his arm and a cut on his face. Steve blinked; what the hell could that kid have been doing to get his arm broken? In all honesty, Steve thought Pony was a bit of a weakling for doing track instead of football like Darry. Football was a real sport, one that could get your arm broken. Track was for the skinny little guys who didn't make the team. He clearly hadn't acquired a broken arm from track, and he never spent long enough in a fight for any Soc to break it – Darry always had to come and help him before the poor baby was hurt.

He could have just asked, but Steve was too proud. Instead he set his shoulders and stalked past Pony into Two-Bit's tiny kitchen, intent on finding out what was cooking.

Mrs Mathews was before the stove, stirring something that look absolutely divine and smelled even better. Steve sidled up next to her. "That looks great, Mrs Mathews," he said, hoping there would be enough for him. Ponyboy always ate more than his fair share…

"Well, thank you, Steve," said the older woman. "You should teach my children a thing or two about respect. You're a gentleman."

There was a snigger from the small dining table, and Steve turned and saw his best friend grinning devilishly at him. "Yeah, he's a real Prince Charming," Soda said sarcastically. He brushed a stray piece of hair from his eyes – it didn't look as though he had greased it today – and Steve noticed the long gash on his arm.

"Oh my God, what happened?" he asked, showing a great deal more concern than he had shown towards Ponyboy.

"I didn't tell you?" Sodapop asked. "Sorry, I meant to, I really did. Pony had a car crash the other night."

So _that _was what had happened to Pony's arm. Not that Steve cared much at that moment. "He should've been more careful!" he cried. "Driving's not difficult."

"Would you _quit _it?" Soda snapped suddenly, unexpectedly. "I'm getting real sick of you always getting stuck into him."

Steve raised his eyebrows. He stalked out, mumbling something about it being that time of the month. Soda just rolled his eyes and ignored him. Steve was really immature sometimes.

Mrs Mathews just added a little more pepper to her dish, letting the boys worry about their own problems.

Darry came inside shortly afterwards, surprised to see Pony and Steve watching TV together while Soda was in the kitchen reading… something… Darry hadn't bothered to check. Normally it would be Soda sitting with Steve and Pony off reading alone.

"How're you feeling, Pony?" Darry asked. He knew Pony would be in quite a bit of pain from the injuries he sustained in the car crash, and Darry had resolved to check daily how much aspirin they had. He didn't want his little brother overdosing… he'd already take aspirin almost daily before the accident. He wouldn't mention it until it became a real problem, but Pony's consumption of drugs really worried him.

"Hurts to breathe," Pony complained.

"You need me to rewrap your ribs?" Darry offered.

"Nah, Soda did it earlier." Pony unconsciously rubbed his chest, then winced and stopped. "The nurse told me if I hadn't quit smoking I'd be in a lot worse shape."

"That was a real good thing you did, Pony," Darry muttered.

"You quit?" Steve questioned sharply. "I never knew you quit."

"Yeah, well, I did," Pony snapped.

"Geez Louise, no need to get all defensive…" Steve said. "Soda doesn't know you quit. He says to me the other day, he says 'Pony hasn't asked me to get him smokes in a while.'"

Darry eyed the kitchen. "We don't really need to tell him, Steve," he said. "Pony quit for his benefit… I dunno how he'd take it."

Steve jumped off the couch. "That's outta line," he said. "He doesn't need to be protected by you, Darry."

"How 'bout this, _Steve_? How about you leave the running of my family to _me_?"

Steve glared at him before remembering what had happened the last time he had gotten into a fight with Darry. Rubbing his jaw unconsciously, he picked up the bag he had brought to give to Darry and shoved it at him before storming out.

Darry rolled his eyes, dumping the bag on the ground without bothering to look at the contents. He wandered over into the kitchen, not feeling like continuing the argument with Pony instead of Steve.

"Smells real good, Mrs Mathews," he said truthfully. He joined Sodapop at the table. "What've you got there, little buddy?"

"Actually, it's for you," Soda said, pushing the form he had been given over to Darry. He waited for the blow-up, rubbing his hands together nervously under the table.

Darry read it over, his face darkening swiftly. "They want to _make _you have an asthma attack? Are they crazy? I'm not signing that!"

Soda knew he would react that way. "We think we can see exactly what causes it," he explained, trying to keep his voice calm.

"_We_? _We _think? What d'you know? You never graduated medical school! Why can't they just wait for someone to come in through the ER?"

"I dunno," said Soda. "I guess those people would already be in the middle of one. Maybe they want to see what happens when it starts."

"I can tell them what happens when it starts," snapped Darry. "My own brother can't breathe, that's what happens. Do you know how scary it is for me to have to watch that?"

"Do you know how bad I want this gone?" Soda snapped. He was already feeling stressed after the argument with Steve, and he didn't feel like having one with Darry. Though he could see where he was coming from, Darry needed to listen to him. As much as Darry didn't want to admit it, it was Soda who was most affected by asthma, not Darry. "I dunno how many attacks I've had, but it would've been hundreds. And I'm still here, ain't I?"

Darry scowled at the sheet in front of him as though it had paid him a personal insult. "I'm _not _signing that," he said firmly.

X X X X

**A/N**: As if he _would _sign that, let's face it. Reviews? This was a very fast update, please encourage it.

This is a shout out to anyone with a story posted here: I've begun to discover after a sufficient time in the fandom that some of the fics I read when I first joined and some fics since then have been deleted. Please _don't _delete your stories, there is always someone out there who likes them. Fics that aren't updated, while annoying, are better than fics that are written then deleted.


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N**: Thanks again to everyone who left a review! Wow… can't think of anything to say; that's a rarity!

X X X X

"Hi," said Soda, wishing that, for just once, Jonathan could come in late to work and he wouldn't always look like the bad guy. "My brother wouldn't sign it. You'll have to find someone else."

Jonathan humphed and spun around in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "I wouldn't have high regard for him if he did sign it," he said. "It's completely unethical."

Sodapop blinked. "I thought you wanted me to do it," he said.

"That idiot Falkens wanted you to do it. I told him it was stupid… you don't play around with people like that. I know I only have this job because you ended up in here. I'm sure there are plenty of asthmatics around here… we can just wait until someone has an attack by themselves."

Now that it was said like that, Soda thought it made sense. Having an asthma attack was both unpleasant and dangerous; to have one on purpose was a bit ridiculous. Once again, Soda found himself in a position where he had to rethink what he was doing. He realized he was so desperate he was willing to do just about anything to get a normal life. Desperate was not something he wanted to be.

X X X X

Pony had been left at home to recover from the accident. Darry had said he would have preferred either himself or Soda to skip work to look after him, but Ponyboy had convinced him not to. They needed their incomes.

So Pony was left alone, bored. He had already grown tired of rereading books and he didn't feel like watching TV. He was too sore to do much more than that, though; he had spent most of last night and this morning lying on his right side, and though he really needed to change positions, it hurt.

Finally deciding to try drawing for a while, Pony pushed himself up with his right arm, trying to avoid using his stomach muscles as they only put pressure on his broken ribs and bruises. He got up slowly and hobbled over to the messy pile of bags that were still lying on the other side of the room, intending on looking for a notepad of some sort and a pen. He couldn't remember which bag he had put them in, and he could barely remember which bag belonged to which brother; all of them had gradually been covered over by Soda's clothes, sheer laziness preventing him from putting his belongings away properly. Squatting down on the ground, Pony grabbed at the first bag he found and opened it, looking at the contents.

The bag was filled with money. Not filled exactly, but it was still more cash than Pony had ever seen in one place in his lifetime. It was probably at least a couple of hundred dollars.

Heart racing, Pony zipped the bag shut. One of his brothers was hiding hundreds of dollars from the other two. But who was it, and why? And worst of all, how did they get their hands on it? Everything from drug dealing to gambling to prostitution ran through Pony's mind before he mentally slapped himself. Neither of his brothers would do any of that stuff; they weren't bad people. But then, _how _did they get the money?

X X X X

**A/N**: Okay I know that was unacceptably short, but I'm going out for a while and my spirit is telling me I _need _to post. I'll write more when I get back, I promise! For the mean time, review? If you believe that was too short to warrant a reward, I can understand, but please review the next chapter at least. I'd really appreciate it, and remember, reviews make me motivated! Any correct guesses as to what will happen next, including how Pony'll deal with his suspicions gets a free virtual icecream.


	56. Chapter 56

**A/N**: As promised, here's part 2 of the chapter.

X X X X

When Sodapop came home that evening, he was immediately confronted by Ponyboy. "Did you bet on that race against Tim?" he asked.

Soda blinked, taken off guard by the unexpectedness of the question. "Hello to you too, Ponyboy. No, I _didn't _bet on the race. I ain't that dumb."

Pony bit his lip and fidgeted awkwardly. Of all the sins Darry or Soda might have committed to get that money, that was probably the least. After all, if they had gotten it through legal means, why not tell people? Why keep it hidden in a bag? "Forget it," Pony mumbled, deciding to confront Darry about it later. He was probably more likely to keep it a secret than Sodapop.

Soda sat beside Pony and touched the side of his face where the cut was still healing. "How you feeling? You want me to get you anything?"

"Some dinner would be great. I'm starving."

Soda nodded and stood up. "I am too. Who else is gonna be here?"

"Everyone. Mrs Mathews is gonna be home early. Two-Bit and Rachel are both upstairs… I dunno what they're doing. Darry's getting a lift home from a coworker; he should be here soon…"

Sodapop nodded, more to himself than to Ponyboy. He was already in the kitchen searching for pots. He didn't find many; the majority of the pots were lying dirty in the sink from the night before; nobody had bothered to clean them. Soda grimaced; if there was one thing he hated, it was washing dishes. It made his hands smell all gross for several hours after the chore was done, and he was actually starting to resent doing it. He knew Pony couldn't do it, and Darry and Mrs Mathews were both busy, but surely Two-Bit and his sister could help out.

He swung open the door that led to the hall and the stairway. Feeling too lazy to go up and fetch them, he shouted, "_Two-Bit! Rache _–" But then he felt his breath catch in his throat. He let out a deep, involuntary cough before he was overcome by a series of short and shallow coughs. His heart, which had been behaving itself for most of that day, went suddenly into overdrive, and he felt himself sink down to the ground, though he couldn't remember making a conscious decision about sitting.

"Soda?" Pony questioned from the living room. Soda didn't answer him, and Pony pushed himself up as fast as he could with his injuries and walked as quickly as he could – which was not very quickly – to the hall.

The attack must have been particularly violent, because Soda was already lying on his side on the floor, still coughing his guts up. "TWO-BIT!" Pony bellowed, then regretted it as fiery pain shot up his side. Gripping his aching ribs with his good arm, he finally made it to Soda's side, where he immediately dropped to his knees and felt about Soda's pockets for the inhaler he had apparently forgotten about.

Pony wasn't strong enough to lift Soda from the ground, so he just held it to his mouth anyway. Soda tried to breathe it in, but he couldn't hold his breath long enough, and he just coughed everything he had consumed back up.

Two-Bit finally appeared at the bottom of the stairs. He swore and rushed over, pulling Soda into a sitting position. Ponyboy tried to give the inhaler to Sodapop, but his arm wasn't working properly and he ended up knocking it away from them. The change in position still wasn't doing him any good.

Two-Bit swore a second time. "His lips are turning blue," he observed. "We gotta take him in… _Rachel_! Get down here you lazy sack of lazy bones!"

Pony grimaced as he heard another series of short coughs, between which Soda didn't seem to get any air at all. Rachel finally came downstairs, and Two-Bit directed her to fetch the inhaler from the floor and his car keys from the kitchen so Pony wouldn't have to move further than necessary. "You sure you're alright to come? You know he wouldn't mind if you stayed here… you need the rest."

"_I _need the rest?" Pony snapped incredulously. "You said it yourself: he's turning _blue_. We need to go!"

Two-Bit didn't waste time arguing. He picked Soda up from the floor and headed out to his car.

X X X X

**A/N**: Theories? Reviews? Okay, this is like, part 2 of that last chapter, so I'm gonna turn back into Queen B!tch and start demanding them again. Please? Make a little girl smile?


	57. Chapter 57

**A/N**: Another day, another chapter! Thanks so much to anyone who reviewed last couple of chappies! I really appreciate your support.

X X X X

Darry climbed the steps before Two-Bit's door with a weariness that permeated through to his bones. He had worked hard that day, same as any other day, and his back was really paining him. He'd get Soda to rub it, then sink into a hot bath, maybe even borrow some of the girly stuff Mrs Mathews put in her baths to relax. From the blissful look on her face after she had one of those, Darry could tell that girly stuff worked.

He paused before entering. The house was silent, though the lights had been left on. Darry smiled as he remembered the last time when he had come home to a silent house when he knew both his brothers were supposed to be home. They had been hiding next to the door, and when he had entered, they had pounced on him and really managed to scare him. Well, he was prepared for it this time.

He crept up closer to the door, willing his heavy frame not to make noise on the wood of the porch. He gripped the doorhandle tightly before slamming it open, jumping inside and hoping to catch Soda and Pony before they caught him.

But nothing happened. The house was indeed empty.

Curious now, Darry shrugged off his jacket and threw it on the back of the vacant couch, where by all logic, Pony should be resting. "Ponyboy?" Darry called. "Soda?" He got no answer. "Two-Bit?"

He climbed the stairs and looked inside each of the rooms belonging to Two-Bit, Rachel, and Mrs Mathews. They were all empty.

He turned as he heard a car pull up in the driveway. He didn't realize how worried he was feeling until he heard that car and relief shot through him. Losing his parents had made him a nervous wreck when it came to his family. After the second car crash only a few days ago, Darry was feeling more jittery than ever. But they probably _had _just been out somewhere. It had been a while since Soda and Steve had done anything together, and maybe the rest of them had tagged along too. He'd have a word to them about leaving a note next time.

He went back downstairs and walked outside to greet them, but when he got there he realized it wasn't any of the younger band. It was Mrs Mathews, home from work. "Hello, Darry!" she called, her normal smile on her face.

"Hi, Mrs Mathews," replied Darry, trying to hide his disappointment. "You don't know where Two-Bit or Rachel are, do you?"

"No," she said, her smile slowly disappearing. "Aren't they inside?"

"No one is," said Darry, walking back into the house. He checked the kitchen, and though there were no teenagers in there, there was a half full sink of water that hadn't been there this morning. "Maybe they're at some party… I dunno; I just wish they'd leave a note."

He walked back into the hall, suddenly noticing that Mrs Mathews had not followed him into the house. She was staring at the door. "They did," she said.

"What?" Darry questioned sharply, walking back up the hall and looking where Mrs Mathews pointed. Sure enough, there was a note there. Darry ripped it from where it had been hastily taped up and read Two-Bit's messy scrawl.

_Darry –_

_Taken Soda to hospital. Couldn't wait for you. Pony and Rachel are with us. _

_Two-Bit__._

The letter was short, to the point, but still Darry had to read it through several times to get the full meaning to sink in. His breath quickened as worry set in. Did they get there in time?

He looked up as he felt a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "I'll drive you," Mrs Mathews insisted without being asked.

X X X X

Rachel, Pony and Soda were all in the back seat of the car while Two-Bit drove. Rachel had complained at first, saying she wanted to ride shotgun, but Two-Bit had yelled at her to shut up and stop being so selfish. It was one of the few times in his life Pony had seen Two-Bit really mad, and the only time he had seen his friend's rage directed at his kid sister.

Two-Bit had really taken charge. He had told Rachel to hold Soda upright and promised that if she failed he'd hide all the junk food and make her eat vegetables from now until she turned eighteen. She had remained relatively subdued after that, holding Soda up while Pony did his job of administering a near constant stream of medication into Soda's lungs.

Pony's job wasn't yielding any results, though. Soda was by now too out of it to close his lips around the mouthpiece of the inhaler, and even if he could, he was coughing too hard to absorb any. Pony suspected _he _was breathing more of it than Soda, but that didn't stop him trying. He hadn't seen his brother this bad in years.

While his brother and friends worried, Soda was fighting an unachievable war against his own body and the darkness that was threatening to take him over. In fact, the only things keeping him awake were the physical act of coughing and the knowledge that last time he felt this bad and had given in to the darkness he'd truly knocked on death's door. There was no pain in his chest, something to be grateful for, but he could no longer feel his fingers or toes, and he couldn't even tell if his lips were touching the inhaler or not; they just felt like rubber. He felt dizzy and confused, incapable of much coherent thought, but he did hold one thing in mind: _keep coughing_. If he was coughing, he was breathing. He didn't want to hold his breath in the hope of dispersing the coughs; he didn't want to lose the precious little air he was taking in and with it his slender grip on reality.

Two-Bit drove like a maniac to the hospital, scared to death of what might happen if he got there too late. He felt bad for yelling at Rachel, he really did, but he needed her to gain some perspective. He'd make up for it later. Right now he had more pressing things to worry about.

He pulled up outside, relieved that visiting hours were over and there were more free car spaces. He put his keys in his pocket, not bothering to lock the car, and waited for Rachel to climb out before he pulled Soda rather unceremoniously out of the car, knocking his arm against the door as he did so. He didn't bother seeing if he could walk – the answer was pretty obvious – and he didn't bother waiting for Pony to even get out of the car before he picked Soda up and hurried towards the entrance.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor old Two-Bit, evil old Cal made him be mature!

Reviews mean you want to see Dallas Winston vs Justin Bieber in a death match.


	58. Chapter 58

**A/N**: It's taken me THIS LONG to find out that New Jersey is _not_ in between Oklahoma and Texas. Oh dear God I'm embarrassed. This clears up a _lot _of questions about movies like, "How the hell did he get to New York in an hour? Why does he _not _sound southern?"

Thanks so much to everyone who is still reading, and especially to those who leave reviews! I say it every time and I mean it _every time_.

**Important **– if you don't have me/this on alert, make sure you've read the last chapter. I didn't jump to the top of the recently updated list for some reason yesterday.

X X X X

Darry rushed up to the nurse's desk, waiting impatiently as the nice looking woman on the other side finished a phone call. "What can I do for you, sir?" she asked in a polite tone that was probably more suited to a gas station than a hospital.

"I'm Sodapop Curtis' legal guardian, can you tell me where he is?" Darry said in one long, quick sentence. He felt Mrs Mathews join him at the desk; she had been slower coming from the car than he had.

The nurse looked through her files, withdrawing one that was probably Soda's. She read it for a moment before turning around and calling another nurse. "Susan!"

Susan came forward, nodding a greeting at Darry and Mrs Mathews. "Yes?"

"Can you show these two to where Sodapop Curtis is being treated?" She smiled back at Darry. "They tend to get moved around the emergency room a lot," she explained, "so we just locate them by finding their nurses."

Darry nodded awkwardly, wondering why she was telling him this – why he _cared_. They could run the hospital any way they liked as long as his brother was alright.

He followed Susan through the doors into the emergency room, Mrs Mathews pottering along behind. They passed many doctors, nurses and other people as they headed further toward the other side of the large room.

Darry's ears picked up the sound of someone coughing violently from behind one of the many curtained off sections of the room. He wondered if that was his brother, and hoped it wasn't; the person really sounded like they were dying. Any breath they caught was horrendously noisy; Darry could tell from here that their airways were just about closed. He really hoped that wasn't Soda, but at this stage he thought it was. They were certainly heading that direction, and Darry knew what a severely asthmatic person sounded like.

Sure enough, the nurse led them to where the coughing was coming from and held the curtain open for them. They could barely fit into the tiny area: there were too many people, and machines on wheeled frames were spread out haphazardly wherever they could fit, having obviously been put in there when Soda came in. Seeing this, Mrs Mathews opted to stay outside, while Darry edged his way in and observed what was happening.

He had thought that they must not have started Soda's treatment yet with the severity of the coughing, but apparently they had, and it was having little effect. Soda was sitting on the edge of the bed, held up by Two-Bit, who had been forced to grip Soda's hair to try and hold his head in place while a nurse pressed a mask over his mouth and nose. But Soda had gotten himself into a nasty pattern of coughing, and he was even choking up the medicine from the nebulizer. Pony was sitting on his other side, gripping Soda's wrist lightly to offer support. He would have held his hand, but Soda's fingertips were blue and it was clear he wouldn't have felt it. Rachel was sitting quietly on a chair out of the way of everyone, watching what was happening with wide, scared eyes.

Soda's vision was almost completely gone by now, and it was a miracle he was still conscious. He was panicking, scared of having a repeat of what had happened when he was twelve, and above all scared of dying. He knew he had been put on a nebulizer; he could feel the mask being shoved against his face, but he might as well have been breathing car fumes for all the good it was doing him. Becoming desperate, he kicked out randomly. He didn't know what he hoped to achieve; maybe he was just crying out for help, but he heard the shout of pain as his foot connected with someone's leg, and then suddenly someone was snapping their fingers in front of his face. His vision cleared momentarily, and he was able to hear what Jonathan was saying. "You'd better calm down right now and breathe normally or we're going to have to intubate. I know you don't want that."

No, Soda didn't want that. He didn't know many technical words, but he knew what that meant. He'd promised himself he'd never get sick enough to need a ventilator again.

With an almighty effort, Soda refused to give in to the next cough that tried to control his body. He jerked spasmodically as he tried to ward them off, Two-Bit's hand knotted in his hair really starting to hurt as his head tried to shoot forward, and soon he felt brave enough to take one carefully measured breath.

It felt like he was breathing itching powder, and his body tried to expel the air immediately, but slowly he grew better at controlling his lungs. Not perfect, not even close, but his fingers and toes began to sting as blood rushed back into them, and though his lips still tingled, he could actually feel them again. Eventually they took the mask from the nebulizer off his face and immediately replaced it with one that was pumping oxygen so he wouldn't have to breathe the normal air and be forced into another attack.

Jonathan turned to the nurse and told her to fetch a wheelchair, also giving her the vials of blood he had taken from Soda and telling her to take them to pathology. Hopefully some good would come out of this. He had taken the ER shift for a friend who had to attend his brother's twenty first birthday party; he hadn't expected his little helper to come in.

Darry moved forward slowly. Two-Bit and Pony both looked up, and Two-Bit carefully swapped places with Darry, making sure not to jostle Soda too much. Darry sat down and let an exhausted Sodapop lean against his shoulder. Soda hadn't so much as looked at him yet; he was still concentrating on trying to breathe as normally as possible, and he still jerked every now and then with suppressed coughs.

The nurse – Susan – returned with a wheelchair, and she and Darry helped an exhausted Sodapop onto it. Darry asked Pony if he wanted to go home with Mrs Mathews and rest, and he wasn't really surprised when he said no. They followed Susan out of the little alcove, and Darry glared at the ventilator that had been there in case things took a turn for the worse as he passed it.

X X X X

**A/N**: Poor boys. Yes! The finale of _Glee_ is on tonight! Don't anybody tell me what happens! Except I'm kinda annoyed; the promo says to expect "big surprises" and then it shows Quinn being rushed through a hospital holding her very pregnant stomach… I'm like, well thanks! And then you hear _Sue _saying "And the 2010 Show Choir Champions are…" so it's obvious she's gonna replace a judge or something Way to ruin the surprise! Stupid Channel 10.

Please review! Reviews are sustenance to the muse.


	59. Chapter 59

**A/N**: Thanks so much to reviewers again! And to you lurkers too – I'd love to hear from you!

X X X X

Darry had thought the worst would be over once they left the emergency room, but Soda had two more coughing fits on the way upstairs. He was breathing easier now that he had the oxygen, and he was moving his fingers, but Darry still worried for him. If Two-Bit had gotten him to the hospital any later, he really could have died.

Soda still hadn't acknowledged his older brother's presence by the time he was settled in his own room, when he waited for the bed to be raised to a sitting position before leaning back against the pillows and promptly falling asleep. Susan left with the wheelchair, but she was replaced after only a couple of minutes by an older nurse who looked to be in her late fifties. The nurse smiled reassuringly at Darry and Pony as she set about working, connecting various pieces of monitoring equipment to Soda. "My name's Denise," she said to them. "Either myself or another nurse will be staying in here until he improves some. It's nothing to worry yourselves over; it's just a precaution."

Pony fell into a chair heavily. "Darry?" he said in a strained voice.

Darry was still looking at Soda as he pulled up another chair. "Hm?" he said.

Pony frowned; not too happy with the fact that, once again, Darry was ignoring him for Soda. He didn't begrudge Sodapop the attention, but he wanted some too. Besides, Ponyboy was actually _awake_. "I'm really sore," he admitted in a small voice.

Soda's eyes blinked open as he started to cough hard again, and Darry's face contorted into a look of worry. Denise said nothing, just injected something into a cannula she had put in Soda's arm for just that purpose. "I don't have any aspirin, Pony," he said. "I wish you'd think more and take it with you."

"I didn't know we were gonna have to leave!" Pony hissed.

Deep down, Darry knew Pony was right. He wished he could just have one brother sick at a time; having them both ill was really testing him. Soda's heart was speeding up as his coughs died down in reaction to whatever the nurse had given him, and Darry was torn between worrying over both of them. He wondered how the hell his parents had managed to raise three kids – he found two hard enough.

He gritted his teeth. He couldn't do anything about Soda right now, but he couldn't do much for Pony either. He didn't have a car; Two-Bit and Mrs Mathews had both driven theirs home to give the family some space, so he couldn't go and buy any. He decided to try asking the nurse. "Could I get some aspirin for my little brother?" he asked. "He was in a car crash a couple of days ago."

Denise did not look as though this news fazed her in the slightest. "The doctor should be by in about a minute or so to check this one's arterial blood gases; I'll get him to get you some when he comes."

As soon as she finished speaking, the door opened and a doctor walked in. He gripped Soda's shoulder to rouse him. "How does your chest feel, son? Any pain?" Soda shook his head and coughed lightly. Darry was relieved; he would have thought from the attack Soda suffered that he would be in agony. "Good. I'm going to need to take some blood from your artery now; it might hurt a bit but you need to stay calm, alright?"

Soda felt anxiousness rear up inside him. He had only had this test a few times in his life, but it damn well _hurt_. It was worse than a normal blood test; arteries were much deeper under the skin and he just didn't want them digging around in there. He coughed again. He just wanted to be home. If he could turn back time, he never would have yelled for Two-Bit and Rachel. He'd had no idea this could have happened; he would have just washed the dishes himself, or at least go upstairs to get them.

Still, Jonathan's threat of intubation stayed with him, and he tried to calm himself down as the doctor took a syringe from a cardboard box with one hand and his wrist with the other. He shut his eyes and turned away as he felt the needle go in; the sight was almost worse than the feeling. His breath quickened and he heard his nurse say to him, "You need to calm down, sweetheart. We don't want you having another attack."

Despite himself, Ponyboy grinned. It seemed that Sodapop had already charmed this nurse with no words at all. She seemed to love him.

Soda grimaced as the needle was finally pulled from his skin, and he felt tired once again. His nurse was telling him to breathe normally, and he realized he had been taking only short, shallow breaths. Gradually, he managed to correct that, and the deeper breaths lulled him into an exhausted but relaxed state. Slowly, he allowed himself to drift off again.

X X X X

**A/N: **Sorry, little shorter than normal, but I couldn't think of a better place to stop it. Btw – my sister's boyfriend was in hospital with a _really _nasty cold that must have turned into an infection and he had a nurse looking after him all night just in case, so I didn't just make that up.

Please take the time to leave a review! I'm nice, I promise. Correct theories receive… the rights to my movie idea: _The Mad Sock-Eating Goats Attack_. I think it's a winner.


	60. Chapter 60

**A/N**: I had a dream where I was doing math homework (strange since I dropped it) and I was having trouble, and who comes to help me but Sideshow Mel. Weird, huh? He was a pretty good teacher.

Thanks so much to everyone who left a review! This is chapter 60… wow. What a milestone! So I'd especially appreciate some feedback from you lurkers on this special day.

Also I know Two-Bit and Darry seem a little OOC here, but remember that they _are _human beings, capable of more than one emotion, and they've just been through a bit of an ordeal. Plus it's just late at night.

X X X X

Two-Bit did not go to bed like he told his mother he was going to do. He went up to his room, certainly, but it was not to sleep. He dragged a chair over to his open window and sat there, legs up on the window sill, letting the balmy night wash over him. He did not turn on the light.

He had had his first experience of death with his grandfather when he was four. He didn't remember him anymore, and he hadn't really understood that he was dead. It had taken Two-Bit a while as a child to learn that other people actually existed; he used to think they were nothing but figments of his own imagination. So he hadn't been sad when his grandfather died.

It was when Mr and Mrs Curtis were killed that he had his first real taste of how horrifying it could be to lose someone. He still remembered the funeral. He remembered listening to the eulogy – well, trying to listen anyway; a lot of it was drowned out by Soda or Pony crying, not that he blamed them – after all, their parents were dead. He had looked at Darry, strong, confident Darry, and he had just stared at him. Darry had looked so lost, so alone, and it damn near broke Two-Bit's heart to see it. Darry was unbreakable. Not just on the football field, but emotionally too. Until that night.

Two-Bit sighed. He hadn't seen Johnny die, but he'd seen Dally crumple under the street lights, riddled with bullets. It was the first and only time he had ever seen anyone die, and that pain was probably worse than it had been for Johnny or his grandfather or Mr and Mrs Curtis. At least for them he could make believe, pretend that they hadn't suffered. He had seen how Ponyboy had reacted to Johnny's passing, and he knew it had been sad and painful, but Two-Bit liked to make believe that he had gone peacefully in his sleep. He couldn't do that for Dally.

But he couldn't have done anything then; it was out of his control. Dally had wanted to die and he had gotten his wish. It was tonight that Two-Bit had actually had someone's life in his hands, and he found he didn't like it one bit. He hated responsibility. He just wasn't cut out for it. Looking back, he had probably only taken charge because Ponyboy was injured and not a good enough driver to get to the hospital in time, and Rachel… well, Rachel was just too young. But it had been only the second time Soda had ever gotten sick enough to have to be taken to hospital when Two-Bit was around, and that first time he had been drunk. It came as a shock to him; that was all. And this time Darry hadn't been there. It was scary, being in control.

Two-Bit sighed again and stripped down to his boxers, climbing into bed. He knew he'd feel better in the morning.

X X X X

Darry and Pony remained in the hospital all night. They wouldn't leave; Soda was having small attacks on and off throughout the night, and for the most part he was in an unpredictable condition. Darry allowed Pony to stay even though he was still injured, but he insisted on him at least having a little sleep. It hadn't actually taken much protest; Ponyboy's body needed rest to heal, and he was exhausted. He had climbed onto the cot Denise had set up without much complaint.

They finally took Soda off the oxygen at three in the morning, by which time Denise's shift had finished and another took her place. They took more blood from Soda's arteries just in case, and Soda had made enough noise to wake Pony up. Those tests really hurt.

Something had been gnawing at Darry as the long hours wiled away, and he thought it time to voice his concerns. Ponyboy left right after the doctor did to use the bathroom, and Darry took his opportunity. "Could we have a minute alone?" he asked the nurse.

She pursed her lips. "I'll be right outside," she promised. "If you need me, just holler."

Darry nodded, and Soda shifted uncomfortably as she left. He didn't like the idea of private talks. They were always awkward and painful.

Darry tried to think of a way to ask what he was going to ask, but he didn't have much time until Pony came back, and he certainly didn't want his baby brother hearing what he had to say. He wouldn't even raise it with Soda if he didn't think it necessary. "You know that form you wanted me to sign a couple of days ago?" he started. Soda nodded. "I didn't want to sign it because I was afraid this would happen. I would have thought you'd be afraid of this too."

Soda nodded again, looking down at his hands. "I was," he admitted in a voice hoarse from a night's coughing. "But I figured there might be benefits. I don't like living like this, Darry."

Now it was Darry who shifted uncomfortably. "I know you don't," he said. "That's why I have to ask… Ponyboy and Two-Bit said they have no idea what brought this attack on. They said they weren't in the room." He looked Soda dead in the eyes, not letting himself waver. "Did you do this on purpose, Soda?"

Sodapop looked confused for a moment, and he let out a short laugh that ended in a loud cough. The nurse poked her head in from outside, and Darry waved her away. "Are you _serious_?" Soda muttered. "Darry, I'd _never _try to… to _kill _myself. I can't believe you'd ask that."

Darry couldn't believe he was sitting here having this discussion either, but he had started to wonder. Soda had been walking an emotional tightrope recently, believing half the time that he might actually get rid of his asthma forever, then half the time that it was impossible. It just wasn't good for his mental health, no matter how happy he was. "I just…"

"Forget it," muttered Soda. "I'm not that selfish. C'mon Dare, you know me better than that." He smiled that infectious grin, and Darry found himself smiling too. "I had an attack because I was yelling for Two-Bit and Rachel to help with the dishes, and… I dunno, my breath just caught. Nothing suspicious about it."

Darry nodded, swallowing against the lump in his throat. He'd had a long day and a longer night, and this felt like the straw that broke the camel's back. Cursing himself, he grasped Soda's hand tightly. "I was really worried."

"Course you were," said Soda. "If you didn't have me around you'd have to teach Ponyboy to drive. It's not much fun, trust me."

Pony returned right as this was said, and he poked his tongue out at Soda. "Shuddup…" was all he said. He didn't need to say more. Everything he meant was in his tone of voice.

X X X X

**A/N**: I'm not actually sure if this is happy or sad. You be the judge. So, review me on our 60th chapter anniversary. Please? And try to remember that Two-Bit and Darry aren't actually people; I don't want to get any reviews saying Two-Bit should be laughing at Soda's misfortune, not lamenting it…


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N**: Sorry for no update yesterday. I would have but I watched the _worst_, _grossest _episode of House ever that honestly made me want to gouge my eyes out (it was _that bad_; last episode of season 2 it was – do NOT watch) plus I'm never happy on Sunday nights, so instead of updating I sat in my room and watched comedies. Hugh Grant is so suave… and I highly recommend _Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist_… very nice for a night in.

Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who reviewed, particularly kelly the fanfiction addict for her wonderful recommendations of comedies. I loved them – added a lot of fics to my index, I did.

X X X X

Steve did not want to be mad at Soda, but he had been relying on him for a lift to work and, at a quarter to nine, he still had not shown up. So Steve took it upon himself to power walk to Two-Bit's house, really hoping Sodapop hadn't been held up trying to make Pony comfortable… if that _was _the reason, then Steve might just be back in jail for another assault before the day was out. Ponyboy always took up Soda's attention.

He was running very late by the time he arrived at Two-Bit's, and he kind of wished he had just forgotten about the lift and walked to work, but Two-Bit's house was much further away from the station than his own and now that he was here, he might as well get that lift anyway. He was beginning to regret lending Sodapop his car; he might not care too much about getting to work on time, but Steve for one liked his job and wanted to keep it. He knew he should not sound too negative, and Soda _was _his best friend, but he was very late and running on limited patience.

"Hello?" he yelled as he opened the door. His own car was sitting on the lawn outside, and he could have taken it, but he wasn't malicious and he didn't want Soda to be late either. He'd probably just slept in.

When he got inside, he saw no one on the couch. There was no one in the kitchen either, and Steve began to wonder where everybody was. "Hello?" he called again.

He heard a door open at the top of the stairs, and Two-Bit clambered down, looking awfully tired and washed out for someone who had apparently just woken up. "Shouldn't you be at school by now?" Steve asked him.

Two-Bit blinked as though he were confused, then waved him off. "No way; I'm not going in today. Taking a sick day."

"Yeah…" Steve mumbled. "You look terrible. Where the hell is everyone? Soda was supposed to pick me up an hour ago."

Two-Bit looked over at the couch and the makeshift bed Darry usually slept on. Neither looked as though they had been used the night before. He went over and sat heavily on the couch, wishing he didn't have to be the bearer of bad news. "Well, I dunno how to tell you this, Steve, but they're probably all at the hospital. And before you say it, 'cause I know you will, it wasn't Ponyboy. Soda had one of the worst attacks I've ever seen. He really should be dead, or at least on a breathing machine…" Two-Bit had had quite a wake up call the night before. It had really shocked him, and he knew it would be a while before he had gotten over it completely.

Steve's mouth opened, but no sound came out. Suddenly getting to work on time didn't seem so important. He sat down heavily next to Two-Bit and pulled out a pack of smokes, offering one to his buddy. They sat there and smoked for a few minutes, just trying to alleviate their stress. Finally Steve spoke. "He's okay, right?"

Two-Bit shrugged. "I left once the worst had passed, just to give them some space. Darry and Pony haven't been home yet, though; I dunno if he got worse during the night." He took a long drag. "It was horrible, Steve. He was turning blue, and kicking and thrashing… I had to hold his head in place by his hair."

Steve stood up violently. "Yeah, I don't wanna know, Two-Bit!" he yelled.

Two-Bit said nothing, just stared into the distance as he finished off the cigarette. "I think I'm gonna go in," he said.

Steve stared at the ground, thinking for a moment. "Yeah, I'll come too. Screw work. I'll tell them I have a family emergency."

Two-Bit made a pensive face. "I wonder how many family emergency days are in my school record?" he wondered out loud. Steve rolled his eyes.

X X X X

Two-Bit and Steve arrived at the hospital and found their way to Soda's room, walking in to see Ponyboy staring with avid attention at a notepad he had on the table. With his forefinger he pressed the very top of the pen, forcing the tip against the paper, he raised his other hand and gave the side of the pen a very careful flick. The pen jumped, creating a straight line of ink across the paper.

"What the hell are you doing?" Steve asked.

Soda and Pony looked up, surprised at the voice. Sodapop grinned, holding up the notepad that had a few straight lines on it – obviously the result of several other pen flicking moments – as well as a few circles in the middle that the boys seemed to have been trying to avoid. "You have to flick your pen to the other side without crossing a circle or the other one's line," he said.

"Huh," said Steve, sitting on the edge of the bed. "So this is my family emergency."

"I'm a family emergency now?" Soda asked, lining his pen up on the paper.

"Hey, you looked a lot worse last night!" Two-Bit said defensively from the doorway. He came in slowly, hands in his pockets.

"Aw, were you _worried_, Two-Bit? You're turning into my mother."

Two-Bit muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath. "I _was_, you know! It wasn't real fun having to see that."

"Wasn't real fun having to experience it either," said Soda, flicking his pen. "But it's not all bad. I get a day off work, I get to hang out with Pony, and apparently you two as well, and now I'm participating in some study so I get the room for free. Which is good, you know; we need more money as it is… no need for me to screw it up more."

"You need money?" Steve questioned sharply. Pony's eyes narrowed. He hadn't yet confronted Darry on how he had gotten the money in the bag.

"Well, yeah," said Soda, "we got the basic bills we're helping Mrs Mathews pay, we're rebuilding the house, and right now the state's still gonna take me away if we don't get any." He sobered up at that thought.

"What d'you mean you need money?" cried Steve. "Didn't Darrel tell you? I gave him a couple of hundred dollars just the other day!"

Ponyboy's jaw dropped. Of all the ways he had imagined Darry getting the cash, this was the least likely. How the hell did _Darrel Curtis _come to accept hundreds of dollars from _Steve Randle_?

X X X X

**A/N**: Okay updates have to slow down again. I'm busy again. Hey, feel free to pay me to write this fanfic, and I'll gladly drop out of school and write full time! Not gonna happen? Didn't think so. I'm just as unhappy at this turn of events as you are.

Anyway, please leave a review! Therories?


	62. Chapter 62

**A/N**: I'm really sorry this has taken so long. Had a bit of a rotten time honestly… just normal teenage stuff: the guy I like shacked up with Little Miss New Boobs – heard that weeks ago; I've been sitting in front of the TV healing my soul with cookies 'n' cream ice cream like any self respecting relationship victim. I thought I was getting over it, then this morning I find out she's knocked up.

Anyway, you're not interested in the soap opera esque tale. I have to say a huge thank you to reviewers; you were what really drew me out of my mood. I reread some of your comments and got inspired enough to get back into the swing of things, so here you go.

X X X X

Darry borrowed Two-Bit's car as soon as he arrived at the house from work and immediately left to go and pick up Soda and Ponyboy from the hospital. Pony still wasn't well enough to go back to school, and it hadn't made sense to leave him at home alone when he could be in a place that could look after him if he needed it, and he could have some company as well.

He had been pleasantly surprised to discover that since some of the blood that had been taken from Soda both before and after the attack was being used in some study, he wasn't getting billed for the room. He needed all the money he could get, and he didn't need the state coming down on him.

It hadn't taken long for Soda and Pony to start questioning him about some strange lot of cash he knew nothing about. In fact, the door was barely shut when they started. "I don't know what you two are talking about," said Darry. "Steve never gave me any money!"

"Sure he did," insisted Soda. "Pony saw it. And besides, Steve wouldn't lie."

"Wouldn't he?" Pony mumbled under his breath.

"Soda, I never saw any cash!"

"But Steve _gave _it to you."

Getting a little sick of the argument, Ponyboy butted in. "You didn't look in the bag he gave you, did you?"

"No. Why?"

Pony didn't answer. He just leaned back in the seat. Now there was just one mystery left: what had Steve done to get the money? Well, at least it was Steve Randle Pony was now suspecting of doing immoral activities and not his own brothers.

X X X X

Steve Randle sat nursing a beer, wondering how the hell Two-Bit had managed to convince him to tag along to this party. He didn't even know whose house he was at, and he barely recognized anyone around him. He cursed himself: going out with Two-Bit always meant you would end up babysitting him once he got too drunk and wanted to jump off the balcony or something. Steve was just glad he had chosen to go the safer route of making out with a girl with white blonde hair. That should keep him busy for a while.

Steve felt low. He'd find himself his own girl to take his mind off things, but he didn't want just anybody right then. If he were honest with himself, he would know that what he really wanted was to go home and find his mother still around, his father sober – a _normal _family. But Steve wasn't brave enough to admit it to himself. He continued hiding in his bottle, dwelling on how his day had gone. He did that a lot these days.

Steve was so wrapped up in his worries that he didn't notice the girl approaching him until she sat heavily in his lap. He looked up and saw Evie staring down at him. "You forgiven me yet?" she said, as quietly as she could with the loud music permeating the room.

"No," said Steve honestly. He just couldn't forgive her, or his father, or the Socs. He wasn't a very forgiving person.

Evie leant forward, and soon they were kissing messily just like every other couple around them. Steve knew he shouldn't. Their relationship was swiftly becoming destructive. But he also knew he couldn't let go of her. Not now. No matter what. Right at that moment, the rest of the world didn't matter, and they were the only ones who truly fit.

X X X X

**A/N**: I dunno, I'm not happy with it. But let's face it, I need to get back into it. All this stuff was supposed to happen sometime, but I guess I pulled it forward cuz of my mood. Forgive me.

So… do I still rank highly enough for a review? Theories are still appreciated! This fic's now a year old. Happy birthday fic!


	63. Chapter 63

**A/N**: I have exams the next fortnight and due to the fact that I've had serious _issues _regarding school I have a lot more to study for than most people. So again no daily updates coming up… I'm really sorry!

Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed again! You're all so epic!

X X X X

Steve came round for dinner that night, and Pony finally got the explanation he had been waiting for.

"Tim gave me the money," he told Darry, who had looked into the bag only an hour earlier. "Told me to give it to you, in exchange for all the stuff you'd done for him over the years. But then I got arrested, and when I gave it to Evie she sort of decided she deserved it more… took a while for her to come round," he finished lamely, looking down to his plate.

Soda recognized the expression. "You having trouble?" he asked.

Steve shrugged. "Don't really know," he said. He'd never understand women. For all he knew, Evie's actions at the party the night before could have meant she was breaking up with him. It was ridiculous – why on earth couldn't women just say what they felt?

Steve stabbed his chicken with his fork angrily.

X X X X

Weeks went by slowly, the lazy days of the approaching summer meaning nobody was really all that bothered with worrying too much. Ponyboy's exams approached, and not for the first time he wondered why they bothered putting them at the very end of the school year when he was too relaxed and tired of school to really care more than usual. As usual, Darry put pressure on him, and as usual, Ponyboy complained about his "slave driving brother" to Soda. Steve continued his strange, undefined relationship with Evie, meeting her every few nights to go and make out in the back of a movie, or have sex in the back of a car in one of Steve's many spots. Darry continued rebuilding the house little by little, and he was hoping to be done sometime in the holidays. Two-Bit continued life as he always had; taking it as it came and not worrying about it – he was planning to fail his examinations once more – and Soda did much the same, though he tried a lot harder at his job than Two-Bit was trying at school.

The blood Soda had given that night in the hospital had been the first in what Soda liked to call Jonathan's practical blood bank. Blood samples had been coming in from anyone Jonathan could get to consent. Soda knew because it was he who had to record every single mind-numbing detail of every single sample that came in. He missed his book store – while it had gotten boring there sometimes, certainly, he could have just gone to sleep. Here he had to write down some very long and complicated words he had never heard of before, and if he misspelled something it could very well change the whole meaning. He had learned that from experience.

Soda was just thinking of poor Pony, trapped in a classroom trying to go well enough in a math exam to really impress Darry, when Jonathan into the small office, pulling some gloves off and throwing them in the garbage. "I think," he began very slowly, "that I've done it." He sounded a little shocked.

"Done what?" Soda asked, rubbing his eyes as he looked up from the mind numbingly monotonous work he had been doing for a couple of months now.

"I found something. A hormone. Its levels in the blood change whether the patient was asthmatic or not, and whether or not they were experiencing symptoms… Your levels from that night were almost non existent." Jonathan continued to look at the ground as though he were in shock. "I really can't believe this. This has to be the single most incredible thing I'll ever do…"

Soda understood what he was saying. "So, does this mean you can fix it?" he questioned sharply, hardly daring to hope.

Jonathan finally made eye contact with him. "No," he said. "I'm afraid not. But it means now I have some tiny inkling why it happens… it means I can try!" He shook his head. "I still can't believe this. I can't believe I discovered this." He stared at Soda again. "If you were twenty one I'd be taking you out for a drink by now. You don't get how much this means to me!"

No, Soda didn't. But he did understand people, and seeing someone else happy made him just as happy.

And Jonathan had said they were one step closer to him finally getting a normal life.

X X X X

**A/N**: I'd imagine that a couple of those paragraphs will look like Block Paragraphs of Doom at posting. Sorry.

Sorry to anyone going back to school… I know how hard that is. Unless you enjoy school. Personally I think they're the root of all evil, but… whatever…

Sorry – it's Sunday night, I'm never happy Sunday night. Anyway, drop me a review if you read this… please? They feed my muse and make me happy, which is necessary to write.


	64. Chapter 64

**A/N**: I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all on this website who write fics in a language that is not their mother tongue. As a former exchange student to a school I did not speak the language if I know how hard it is to learn that level of fluency – it's truly commendable what you have done.

No particular reason this chapter's dedicated… I just think ESL authors are absolutely incredible, and people don't give them the credit they deserve. Again, thanks so much to all reviewers! You guys keep me inspired!

OH! Guess what? I got nominated for an award! I'm so excited! Voting is from September 15-30, and I shall shamelessly plug you the voting link then. YES, I have no shame!

X X X X

Pony had been in a bit of a mood all day – ever since he had finished his math exam. He had been rehearsing and refining a speech that he was going to say to whoever walked in the door first, a speech in which he would complain about the math department at school and the unfairness he had just suffered in his exam. He had thought Two-Bit would be home first, but apparently he was off drunk somewhere, because he didn't see the need to come walk Pony home like Darry would have wanted.

So Pony ended up glowering at the television set – which was switched off – for an entire half hour. His mother used to lecture him about his incredible ability to hold grudges, and though he didn't say it so explicitly, Soda did too. Pony never understood people like his parents or Soda. If he, Pony, saw injustice in the world, he didn't see any other option than to focus on it. After all, if he didn't attention to it and try and fix it, it wouldn't go away.

Darry held grudges too. Not quite so much as Pony, but he worried a lot. He'd had to grow up too fast. Privately Pony thought his mother would have had more trouble keeping from worrying if she had had as many troubles as Darry did now. And Darry would be able to take on more and not have it stress him out if he had had as easy a life as most people.

The door opened, interrupting Pony's thoughts. Soda walked in, and Pony immediately jumped to his feet and began his well rehearsed tirade. "Don't you think it's unfair when teachers put things in exams without teaching you them?" he began, a little like someone trying to sell something. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "Well, I do. I dunno what the hell a reciprocal is! They asked me what the reciprocal of four is! I never learned it! I think it's really unfair, and –"

"Pony," interrupted Soda, "the reciprocal of four is _one over four_. That was one of the only things I learned from math class. You take the number and flip it upside down."

Poor Ponyboy hadn't been expecting this. "But I never learned it!"

Soda grinned. "Don't worry, kiddo," he said. "I believe you."

Pony scowled. He'd been expecting some sympathy at the very least. He knew he wouldn't be getting any from Darry. It looked as though he was just going to have to keep himself satisfied with his foul mood for the rest of the evening. What kind of sick freak invented math tests anyway?

X X X X

The remainder of Ponyboy's exams went much better than the math test had. He refrained from telling Darry, knowing it would only result in an earful of complaints and vows that unless he was so sick he couldn't get out of bed, Pony could say goodbye to days off school. He would just have to hope the remainder of the exam questions had been enough to get him an A.

Today Darry was taking him to see the house. Quite a bit of progress had been made by now; the burned portion was now completely stabilized so even Darry would be able to jump on the most damaged parts of the floor without it collapsing beneath him. They still just had a tarpaulin nailed up where the roof had fallen away in Soda and Pony's room, but Darry was hoping to fix the roof in the next week or so. Now that Two-Bit was off on summer holidays, Darry was going to enlist his help, as well as Ponyboy's, though he'd only let Pony do something really small like pass him nails or fetch his lunch. Though his injuries from the car crash were now almost gone, he still got sore, and he was a small kid anyway. Darry didn't want him hurting himself.

"When d'you reckon we can move back?" Pony asked, looking at the remains of his bedroom. The damaged carpet had been completely ripped up and Pony was standing on dilapidated wooden floorboards. He'd have to get used to it too; the family had been trying to redo the floors for years in order to minimize the dust in the air but had never quite had the money. Darry saw this as an opportunity and had ripped up all the carpets that were damaged by the fire.

"Hard to say," said Darry. "I need to fix your roof, obviously, then I need to get someone to fix the wiring and plumbing. That might take a while."

Pony nodded and sat down beneath the hole, thinking. Seeing that his baby brother was one of those deep moods, Darry shrugged to himself awkwardly. "Maybe another month," he said, referring back to Pony's question. "I'll give you some time, okay?"

Pony nodded, and Darry went to go have a look in his own room.

X X X X

**A/N**: So yeah. Thanks so much to whoever thought me decent enough to nominate, it really means a lot that you think that highly of me!

So they'll be moving back soon… Reviews? Theories? Come on, don't be shy! I'm a lovely person! Really!


	65. Chapter 65

**A/N**: It's been a while! I would've updated earlier, but I've had exams and I actually wanted to pass these. But a lot's been happening my end… I had my first lucid dream! Unfortunately that was before I realized the consequences of lucid dreaming for someone like me, but it was still awesome! It was actually _Inception_!

Yes, I'm now obsessed with _Inception_. Don't worry; I shan't change fandoms. I believe fanfics about that film would ruin it for me – that's why I don't read Harry Potter fanfiction or TV show fanfiction.

Thanks again so much to everyone who reviewed, you mean the world to me!

X X X X

Two-Bit hadn't been thrilled to discover his summer would be spent assisting Darry in rebuilding his house, but he still helped out. He'd just prefer to be relaxing in the sun than working under it. God had obviously not meant summer for work, or he wouldn't have made it hot!

Pony tried to help where he could, but Darry often wouldn't let him. He didn't argue too much. Ever since the car crash he had been having problems with his back and he couldn't do as much physical work as he used to. He was just glad he wasn't a football player like Darry had been. Besides, he found the area to be perfect for his imagination. The heat was like a pleasant blanket, and everybody ignored him. It wasn't like he went there too often anyhow. Darry still had his own jobs to attend to, so they usually only ended up working weekends and the occasional afternoon. Ponyboy didn't understand what Two-Bit was always complaining about: he spent more than double the time he worked just lying around in front of the TV.

Steve and Soda both continued to work their own jobs, though Steve was planning to take a week off later in the holidays for general relaxation and also to take Evie somewhere for the weekend. He still wasn't exactly sure where they were in their relationship, but he was growing more and more confident that she would not just turn around and dump him without warning.

Soda, like Darry, wasn't daring to take time off. They were going to be called back to court towards the end of the summer and no matter how short a time it would be before he turned eighteen, Soda didn't want to spend any time in a foster home. Ponyboy had been unhappy to even spend a night with a foster family. Soda was looking at up to a month.

He was still honestly surprised he had retained employment. He didn't know what he was doing half the time, and the other half he became so distracted he was afraid that most of what he did was covered in mistakes. It was just all so boring. He had hoped that now Jonathan had actually discovered something remotely useful that would be the end of it. He could get cured, quit his job and go work with Steve. As it turned out, it wasn't that easy.

Jonathan and Falkens had moved on to testing dead bodies. The mere thought revolted Soda, and he vowed not to tell Ponyboy. He privately wondered what the hell would entice anyone into becoming a doctor. There were other high paying jobs, jobs that didn't require chopping up people. Two-Bit had once lewdly remarked that they probably got off by causing pain to others. That had been right after he had gotten a dislocated shoulder popped back in place, and remembering the scream, Soda couldn't really blame him for being a little upset at the time.

Two-Bit had become much more helpful around the house after the last attack that landed Soda in the hospital. Soda had had to tell the doctors what he had been doing that had caused his lungs to give out, and when Two-Bit had found out it had been because Soda was trying to make him do the dishes, he suddenly began volunteering more often. He even made dinner occasionally, though it was usually only eggs or toast, and only when nobody else was around to do it.

It was one of those times when Two-Bit had made eggs for dinner that Darry was going through the mail, sorting the bills from the personal letters, when he discovered something much more important than either. Carefully schooling his face so as not to alert anybody else at the table, he opened the letter and quickly scanned over the details.

"Darry, do you have to do that now?" Pony complained. Darry knew his littlest brother missed the close family meals they used to have before their parents died – he missed them too – but he wasn't really thinking of that at the moment.

He ignored Pony's question and looked instead at Soda. "We've been asked to go to court August the fifteenth," he said gently.

Soda's face fell, and he put his fork down, no longer looking very hungry. "That's hardly six months," he complained.

Darry shrugged. He had dealt with lawyers and the like when his parents died, both for the execution of their will and to try and keep custody of his brothers. "We're a low priority, I guess," he explained gently. "That might be the only day we could get a courtroom."

Pony's eyes were darting rapidly between his brothers and he felt the beginnings of panic set in. How could Darry be so _calm _about this? Pony had been dreading it ever since he had heard it was coming! He had had nightmares about it, and when one of his brothers would wake up and ask him what was wrong, he'd lie. He didn't want them feeling the same frightened way he did. But they were taking this so… so _calmly_! How was it humanly possible?

"Pone?" Soda asked gently.

Pony glared at the table. He slammed his fork down angrily and stood up. "You ain't leaving," he said to nobody in particular, then turned and walked straight out the front door.

X X X X

**A/N**: What shall happen to Pony? Theories? (Btw, he does not stab a Soc in a park and proceed to flee to Windrixville. I hate it when Pony runs away again. Once in the book was fine, but I believe he's learned the consequences of his actions. But that's just my opinion.) Reviews please? I'd love to hear your opinions!


	66. Chapter 66

**A/N**: This is later than what it would have been because I watched the most INCREDIBLE game of footy ever! And not the stupid American football, I'm talking real man-on-man action (not in a dirty way, geez!) of blood, sweat and tears with no protection and no rules… it was amazing! Defeat looked a sure thing then the Saints came back and DREW with Collingwood (my sworn enemy team) and so they're having a REPEAT of the Grand Final!

Nobody read that! Who cares, I loved that game! Thanks again to reviewers, you rock my world!

X X X X

Pony didn't intend on going far; he just needed to breathe. He had never been claustrophobic, but it had still felt like the walls of the small kitchen were closing in on him. It had only gotten worse when everyone looked at him, trying to assess if he was alright. He wanted to be alone.

He wouldn't have blamed Darry or Soda for running after him after what happened the last time he had up and left like that, but he was glad to notice that no one was following him. It meant a lot to Ponyboy. It meant they trusted him.

Not heading off anywhere in particular, Pony strolled along the darkened streets, kicking at the rocks he found on the sidewalk. He missed Johnny. He was really the only person Pony felt like talking to right now. He was the only one who would understand how he felt. It was strange, since Johnny didn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, but he understood how Pony felt about his family better than Two-Bit or anyone else who had siblings. He was gifted that way.

He sighed. People had told him it would take a year for the full grieving process, but now he was approaching a year and he didn't think it would ever really heal. Those people obviously hadn't lost anyone. Or at least not anyone they were especially close to. Every time Pony heard the train go by, every time he walked through the park, every time he even woke up in the mornings, he remembered Johnny.

He hadn't looked in the mirror since the accident, not intentionally, anyway. He'd feel his face for the possible hint of a beard instead of looking, because he couldn't any longer. There was now a scar running down the side of his face, not exactly like Johnny's, not at all; but close enough in appearance to really scare Pony. He didn't get the impression anyone else had noticed it, and that in itself hurt a little. He wasn't stupid enough to think the rest of the gang had forgotten Johnny, but he almost wish someone would say something that told him they were still thinking about the puppy dog of the gang.

X X X X

It wouldn't be a long court hearing, and that was really what worried Darry the most. The last time they had had sufficient time and opportunity to explain their case. This time they would just be shoving a few bank statements and old hospital bills in front of a judge to decide what he thought was a "sufficient amount of money". The problem with that was that really, the judge could just take Soda away not because didn't think Darry could afford his care, but because he just didn't like Darry. They were going to have to make one hell of a good first impression.

It was only a couple of weeks away. Trying to make his little brother feel better, Soda had remembered this film Pony had been wanting to see and took him to the movie house, just the two of them. Pony knew Soda didn't like movies, so he realized what a nice thing it was to do.

Afterwards, Soda took him out for ice cream. They refrained from talking about the big things, the possibility that these might be their last weeks together for a while, but instead Pony talked about anything and everything he could think about; track, his school friends, girls; and Soda listened. Neither of them wanted to think about anything else.

On the last night before Darry and Soda had to go in, the two younger Curtis brothers lay side by side, each closing their eyes and letting their breaths become slow and deep in the hope of convincing the other they were actually asleep.

X X X X

**A/N**: I'm sorry, it's much shorter than I'd hoped, but I had a certain point to get to and I reached it much too fast!

Theories? What shall happen? Shall Soda have to leave and go live with the Brady Bunch? Review! I will love you forever if you say Go Saints.


	67. Chapter 67

**A/N**: I'm rotten at maths, so if this isn't six months after, well… screw it. Sorry if it's wrong.

Once again thanks so much to everyone taking the time to review. It really motivates me.

X X X X

Darry really had not been sure about Pony coming along today, though of course he had not been able to keep him away. His younger brothers loved each other too damn much.

Ponyboy had only a week and a half left of summer before he'd have to drag himself back to the classroom and get back to work. Soda felt intense sympathy for him, but of the two of them it seemed Soda was the more depressed about the holidays coming to an end. On the whole, Pony enjoyed school, though the summer break was always nice to have. Soda never understood that sentiment. He'd always felt like a classroom was like a cage and the teacher like a tiger that was shoved in there with the students as their meat; he didn't know how anyone could enjoy it.

They were each thinking about the return to school because Pony had spent the morning unable to stop talking about it. He repeated stories he'd told them months ago about track, what got him a good mark in English, how satisfying it had been beating the Socs in his subjects and all sorts of things just to stop thinking about what would happen in only a few hours. Still, at least they would get some closure. No more uncertainty after today.

But of course, that was a very small bright side in comparison to the possibility of what today might bring.

Two-Bit and his family didn't come along today, both because Mrs Mathews couldn't afford the time and because Two-Bit wanted to give the Curtises some privacy. It was something they had really been lacking since moving in with him.

Darry made sure they arrived early, and so he managed to secure a convenient parking spot fairly close to the court. They didn't get out immediately. Darry took a moment to look at his brothers. Both of them looked a little pale, and Pony was sitting stiffly. He had had back pain since the accident, and Darry felt for him. "Your back hurting, Pone?" he asked.

Pony shrugged noncommittally. His eyes looked hardened, but Darry could see the hurt resting just under the surface. It was as though Pony was saying, "Yeah, my back hurts, but not as much as my soul."

Darry sighed and broke away from his musings. "Whatever happens I love you guys very much. Just remember that."

He didn't get much of a response, not that he'd expected one. Just a pair of nodding heads. Then they were getting out of the car, ready to face whatever happened. For better or for worse, they would always be a family.

X X X X

There wasn't much Darry could do. He presented the judge with bank statements, evidence of how much he spent on everyday expenses, some old hospital bills… all these stupid things on paper that somehow, to some powerful bureaucrat, determined how much he loved his brother. He explained that Soda had gotten a better job and the house was almost done; that he had control of things as they were. He explained that they had not even had to pay the last time Soda had had an attack because they had used blood samples in some sort of study. Soda didn't get a chance to say anything much more than to verify what Darry had already said and to state how much he wanted to live with him. Pony didn't get to say anything at all.

The whole process must have taken barely half an hour, not even half how long it took previously. Darry wasn't sure whether or not this was a good thing.

At last the judge looked briefly over all the notes he had made, glancing up and scrutinizing them every now and then, making his final decision in his mind. Darry still felt like the man did not like him, and that would not work in their favour, but he had to remind himself not to abandon hope just yet. There was still a chance he would make the right decision.

"Reviewing your case, I have come to the decision that you have met the requirements I set," said the judge finally, looking sternly at Darry even as he was giving him good news. "I have therefore decided to award sole custody of both boys to Darrel Curtis. Occasional check ups by social workers will continue, and anything that occurs in the future may warrant this case to be reviewed once more; but for now, congratulations, boys. You're free to go." And with that, he actually _smiled _at them. So long had he kept up this façade as an unapproachable entity, but now he looked almost grandfatherly.

Three smiles lit up the faces of the three Curtis boys in response. Darry nodded his thanks at the judge as he ushered his brothers out of the stifling room and back into the sun. There, he enveloped them in a crushing hug.

"Ease up, Darry," Pony said, though he was still beaming. They were going to stay together. It meant more to him than he could even express. His family was everything he had and everything he needed. From now on, he knew he was going to be alright.

X X X X

**A/N**: It may seem like I'm finishing up, but far from it. Cal's Master Plan still has things to get through!

So theories? Reviews motivate me, you know this! What's in store next? (I dunno about you, but I think there are some future pie eating competitions someone might win!) No not really.

Anyway, it's half past one in the morning as I update this and I have some serious hayfever (sneeze) so I'll sign off now. Goodnight Everybody!


	68. Chapter 68

**A/N**: Hey guys... long time no see! (hides)

Argh, I'm really sorry about taking this long. The truth about why I stopped updating was... well... if I see one more story about Kandykorn Curtis I'm gonna blow a gasket.

**A RECAP**: AU story, post book. Soda has asthma. Will be scientifically implausible. The Curtis house was burned down, but is in the process of being rebuilt. The Curtises are now living with the Mathews family. Darry has read Pony's theme. Darry has just been awarded custody of Soda and Pony both. Steve graduated pre story (though I'm starting to think I messed up the dates there - where I'm from the school year starts in January and ends December) and is working full time at the DX. Soda can't work at the DX because the fumes are bad for him, but he's been idolising the idea of working there. He's working for a medical research team because he wants to be cured so he can work with Steve (as I said, scientifically implausible... please ignore). Ponyboy has quit smoking. Soda's also teaching him to drive, which Pony is only okay at. Pony had a crash a bit ago and got hurt, but he's mostly okay, just some back pain which is common with side crashes. Uh... I think that's all the major points... I've spent the last week rereading this myself.

I'm now working on an Android tablet with no spellcheck or word count. Please forgive any errors; though I do try my hardest. Please forgive short chapters, too; I haven't much patience and I find it difficult to write more than a thousand words. As time goes on I'll learn to judge the length of chapters without word count; in the mean time please bear with me.

X X X X

_Three months later_

Darry reached over and flushed the toilet, just to make sure it worked. He'd already tried the bath tub and shower, and even though it had taken a bit of time, hot water had spurted satisfyingly from the taps. The plumber he had hired had assured him that the work was done, but Darry had experience in the building trade. He knew this guy professionally, and considered him ethical, but it would be remiss of him not to check before he paid the guy.

The electrical work had been finished a week ago, and Darry was now satisfied his house was once again inhabitable.

The eldest Curtis was still grinning to himself as he drove his newly repaired truck back to Two-Bit's place. Soda would be at work, but Pony would be around somewhere, and Darry wanted help making Mrs Mathews the biggest thank-you present he possibly could.

Two-Bit's mother was a real superwoman. She never asked for nor received help - not even from her son. Darry loved Two-Bit, but when he was his age he had gone out and gotten himself a second job, giving up on his college dreams, so he could take care of his little brothers. Two-Bit was still in school and had never been employed. His mother worked tirelessly as a barmaid, getting all manner of atrocious behaviour from customers, even to the point where she had come home sometimes covered in puke. She never complained, and hadn't hesitated to allow three more boys houseroom when they had been in need. Darry could hardly remember being more thankful toward another human being.

Darry spent the Sunday afternoon in the kitchen, helped out by Ponyboy. Pony had been thrilled when Darry had told him they were moving back home. Of the three of them, Pony had always been the most private, and the most in need of space to be alone. He needed a house, not his friend's living room.

Sodapop came home around ten that night, and he disappeared somewhere with Two-Bit shortly afterwards. Soda had been working very late at night recently, and he always seemed to have bags under his eyes. Darry had tried to talk to him about slowing down, but Soda seemed to enjoy himself. Sodapop was responsible; on the whole Darry didn't care as long as he was happy and he was being fairly paid for the overtime he put in. The Curtises had been doing much better for money since Soda had turned eighteen and received an associated pay rise.

"You should get some rest, Pony," Darry said to Ponyboy around eleven, coming over to the sink and gently taking the cloth and baking dish from Pony's hands. "I can wake you up when Mrs Mathews comes round."

"No, I wanna stay up," Pony complained. Mrs Mathews would be getting home tonight at one in the morning. Darry wanted everyone to give her a surprise, but he wished Pony would sleep in the meantime. He had school in the morning. "It's only the beginning of the year, Dare," Pony argued. "It's nowhere close to exams, so it doesn't matter if I'm tired."

"Keep telling yourself that, little man," Darry said softly, teasingly. As much as he hated to admit it, Pony was getting older, and he could start taking responsibility for himself now.

Soda and Two-Bit turned up shortly afterwards, each wearing a thick jacket filled with booze. Here Darry almost blew up. "Were you two off robbing some liquor store?!" he snapped.

"Course not, Darry," Soda said cheerfully, slapping him on the shoulder as he passed.

"We didn't bring any bags," Two-Bit explained. "You can stow things in jackets."

By the time one o'clock rolled around, one of Darry's delicious chocolate cakes had been frosted and was presented on the table, accompanied by a plate of gingerbread cookies; a tall, home made thank you card, drawn by Ponyboy, was standing between these; and Two-Bit had already started on the beer. Rachel had come down from her room, wooed by the smell of food, and all five of them were in their pajamas.

They kept silent until Mrs Mathews herself opened the door to the kitchen, at which point they all cried, "Surprise!"

Mrs Mathews was a good natured sort, and though she was tired, it wasn't until three in the morning that everyone finally went to bed. She had almost cried when Darry had promised, in a low voice, that he or one of his brothers would be dropping by to help her with the housework from now on, and he intended to keep that promise. Mrs Mathews had put up with so much in her life, and it was time other people started giving back.

X X X X

Ponyboy and Two-Bit were the ones who moved the few possessions that had migrated over back into the Curtis house - Darry and Soda were at work. They would both be working late tonight - Darry had to head on over to his second job and Soda... well, Soda had been working late every night for a week and a half and Pony didn't see why tonight would be any different.

Pony made dinner that night, which Two-Bit and a newly arrived Steve ate most of, so he had to cook more to cover over for when Darry and Soda arrived home. By the time Sodapop finally came in, throwing the door open noisily and stomping around, Pony had already finished his homework and was lying in bed, reading. He'd have to ask Soda to keep it down if he was going to come in any later than this.

Soda came into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, giving a happy sigh before jumping straight back up so he could arrange his pillows properly. "What're you reading there, Pony?" he asked. Soda always showed an interest, no matter how little he cared about books himself.

"_Les Miserables_," Pony replied quietly, wanting Soda to be quiet at least until he finished his paragraph.

"Do you like it?" Soda asked, clearly in a mood to talk.

Ponyboy was silent as he read the rest of his paragraph, marked the page, and put the book aside. "Yeah, I really like it," he answered. "But the guy needed an editor. You can pretty much skip a bunch of pages as soon as he starts talking about sewers... it's like Tolkien and his Elvish singing, but that's different: Tolkien only wrote _The Lord of the Rings _to demonstrate his new languages, not to tell a story."

By this time Soda had settled himself so he was resting comfortably against the headboard, propped up by pillows. Darry had spent a little more on their bed, buying a more expensive one that Soda would find more comfortable to lean against all night. Neither Darry nor Soda had mentioned getting two separate beds, for which Pony was grateful: he had a feeling that if he were to start sleeping alone again, his nightmares would return with a vengeance.

Soda was looking at Pony with an expression of vague confusion. Pony had forgotten he didn't like reading. There he went again, only thinking of himself... "How was work?" he asked, trying to pay attention to Soda's problems and not only his own.

"Hm," Soda mumbled, bringing the blankets up to his chin. "It was good."

Pony frowned. "Good?" he questioned. "Soda, you've been working late for over a week. How come you ain't sick of it?" Soda smiled slowly, and Pony thought of a whole different situation. "Soda, have you met a nurse?" he demanded, sitting bolt upright.

Soda stared at him. "No!" he cried. "No, nothing like that! I'm just..."

Pony grinned too. "Just what?"

Soda bit his bottom lip for a moment before he spoke. "Don't tell Darry," he muttered. Pony nodded, lying back on his side with his head propped up on his elbow. "We've been given more money because they think we're getting closer," Soda muttered. "I guess I'm enjoying work so much because I'm hoping we're close too."

Pony frowned. "So why can't I tell Darry?" he asked. Darry should be just as thrilled at the news as Pony.

Soda shrugged. "Partly 'cause we might be wrong," he said softly. "Darry's got enough stress without us jerking him around with stuff like this. But mostly... it's real dangerous, Pone."

Pony frowned. "Soda..."

"Don't lecture me on why I shouldn't do something dangerous," said Soda, his gentle tone demonstrating that he wasn't mad at all. "I sure as hell ain't giving anyone permission to do something that could kill me. Darry would lecture me even if I told him we were years off being ready, and I wasn't considering doing it. I ain't in the mood."

Ponyboy nodded slowly, then reached over and switched off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. He snuggled closer to Soda under the covers, hoping he was being serious, and he wouldn't be considering any strange, untested procedures to get healthy. Pony wanted to trust his big brother, but Soda had shown himself to be pretty desperate...

X X X X

**A/N**: Um, yeah, is it too much for me to please ask for some reviews? How was this? Anyone at all still reading?


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